


The Once and Future Kane

by MerrickGreen



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Advanced Meta, Canon Compliant, Canon Compliant through MKAT, Enemies, Family, Female Characters, Gen, MKAT potential sequel, Meta, Mystery, Strong Female Protagonist, Violence, noir, post-MKAT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-06-01 03:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 66,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15134405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerrickGreen/pseuds/MerrickGreen
Summary: As summer dies in 2017, Veronica Mars becomes entangled in a dark and troubling case, courtesy of former high school sweetheart Duncan Kane. With high stakes and lurking danger, Veronica ventures down new dark alleys.





	1. Cover Art

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** :  
> This work is not intended for commercial or any other distribution.  
> Based on characters from the series Veronica Mars, by Rob Thomas. Veronica Mars characters are © Rob Thomas, Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc., Alloy Entertainment LLC and various others, NONE OF WHOM have given licensing for commercial use of this product. Do not distribute without the express written consent of author.  
> Cover Photo by Mark Astoff  
> Used under Creative Commons Licensing CCO (Public domain) courtesy of stocksnap  
> https://stocksnap.io/photo/MA6Q3URJYB  
> The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this work are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.  
> This was not written on behalf of Safe Horizon, and no part of this has been endorsed or approved by them (including this disclaimer). 
> 
> **Foreword** :  
> I hadn’t intended to distribute this, but, I feel like, at this point, it is the right thing to do. I (very briefly) had some officially published (or, at least, self-published) Veronica Mars works through a special licensing deal under Amazon – Kindle Worlds. I had promised to pay any author royalty profits I earned from those books to Safe Horizon, an anti-domestic violence and anti-human trafficking charity in New York. Unfortunately, in July 2018, the platform dissolved and the books were pulled from future sales, meaning no profits would ever be earned.  
> This novel length canon-compliant work was the passion project that got me started on my writing endeavors. If you enjoy this work, and feel moved to show monetary appreciation, please visit https://www.safehorizon.org/ and consider making a donation to them. I’d like to think it is something Veronica Mars would appreciate.

[](https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipO1KtATrqss99nm4MRZRmvBuwT-ZRCOqginArtdVqrNV8_LAJoHF5y6taHBLImlZg?key=Z2RVMjV1Vk5Hd0tMMFFqR18ybVBoTjI5elNTaHVn&source=ctrlq.org)


	2. Today’s Outgoing Voicemail

“I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.” -Virginia Woolf.

“That’s thirty minutes away. I’ll be there in ten.” -Winston Wolfe.


	3. An Introduction

Veronica Mars would do anything to get her man – so without further ado she stripped naked. She was quick and efficient about it and, in a rarity for her, she didn't pay too much attention to her surroundings. Then, she looked around, found the medical observation gown, and put it on.

Veronica had been just in time – as there was a knock at the door. "The doctor will be in to see you momentarily," a nurse said, popping her head into Veronica's exam room.

This wasn't the first time Veronica had gone undercover to a doctor's office, and she doubted it would be her last. Getting access to medical records was too useful and sometimes you had to get a bit ... creative. 

This time, though, Veronica wasn't there to scope out a patient, but the doctor himself. An insurance company had hired her, thinking that Dr. Greenberg was running an insurance scam right here in sunny Neptune, CA. The good doctor apparently saw a disproportionate amount of victims in car accidents, who then seemed to be up and back to work pretty quickly. The client thought doc might be providing fake x-rays for a cut.

The doctor came in wearing a white lab coat. Average height (meaning way taller than Veronica herself), a bit pudgy in the middle, early forties-ish with thinning dark hair on top and the vaguely Mediterranean coloring of an Ashkenazi Jew. No watch, no fancy jewelry besides a plain grey wedding band (definitely not platinum, tungsten maybe?), and his car in the lot had been a not-so-new Volvo. This wasn't screaming that he was a guy on the take, but maybe he was just being smart about it. The incredibly utilitarian office far outside the prestigious 90909 zip code wasn't flashing any bling either, but Veronica has learned that corruption could be found anywhere.

He pulled out an iPad and reviewed what had to be the medical chart before talking to Veronica.

"Miss ... Lawrence, is it?"  
"That's me!" Veronica lied with a bit of pep in her voice. "Sarah Lawrence. I got in a fender bender - guy totally plowed into my SUV and I was told you could help me."

"What seems to be the problem?" The doctor asked, following the usual script.

Veronica made up a story, fishing for a bit of sympathy and trying to sell the need for easy cash. "My ribs are pretty sore, but no sharp pain. I just hope I don't lose any shifts at the restaurant - money was already tight and getting my car looked at wasn't cheap." Fortunately, Veronica's real car was just fine, and anyway she'd been looking at her own cars ever since her legendary Le Baron in high school. In a pinch, she knew a guy who did auto body work if she had needed it. The story about money being tight was, unfortunately, perilously close to true - not much difference there between the fictitious "Sarah Lawrence, waitress" and the very real and very broke "Veronica Mars, PI."

The doctor gave a sympathetic look. "Ok Miss Lawrence. I know what you mean, most of my clients struggle to make ends meet." He laughed a sad little laugh, "I'm sure they work even when it would be better if they didn't. I also understand you don't have any medical insurance?" 

Veronica nodded - a fake name was one thing. A fake insurance account that would check out was significantly harder to accomplish. Not impossible, mind you, but harder. Besides, it helped sell the "please help me with fake x-rays" sob story to be uninsured.

"Just gotta hope that the car insurance of the guy who hit me can cover what I need."

"Well," said the doctor, "I can check you out a bit to determine if any ribs are broken, let you know if you're ok to keep working. Is it ok if I touch your chest?"

"Yes, that's ok. It's the bottom left that's a bit sore." Buying fake x-rays meant not having any broken ribs - there was no need to get groped unnecessarily by Dr. McShammy in determining Veronica's ribs were fine.

The doctor pressed hard against her lower left ribs. "Any pain here?" She shook her head. "How about here?" Another negative.

"Ok, I'm going to listen to your lungs now," the doctor said as he pulled out a stethoscope. As expected, it was incredibly cold when he put the bright metal disk against the medical gown. 

"Any trouble breathing?"

Veronica breathed heavily for the stethoscope and then responded, "No. No trouble breathing."

The doctor put the stethoscope away and looked directly at Veronica and put on a serious look.

"Ok, Miss Lawrence. I'm pretty confident that your ribs are fine, a bit bruised maybe, but nothing to worry about. But there is something we should discuss."

Now this was getting interesting. "Shouldn't we take some x-rays just to make sure?" Veronica asked.

The doctor kept giving his serious look. Veronica thought he was trying to read her – to see whether she would be game for his pay-for-ray scam. Most times Veronica was able to make herself hard to figure, but this time she let some real anxiety through to help sell the desperate need for money. "I think we can dispense with the x-rays this time. In fact, I think it's better if we do."

Now this was getting very interesting. Veronica was impatiently thinking, ‘C'mon doc, make me an offer.’

"Miss Lawrence, we got your lab work from your blood and urine, and you should know - you're pregnant."

That was not an offer to sell Veronica fake x-rays. That was definitely not what Veronica was expecting to hear at all. Was this part of his game? If it was she had trouble wrapping her head around how. Most of Veronica’s brain retreated to blubbering in a corner of her mind, and the rest of her wanted to scream uncontrollably. Fortunately, she didn’t do either these things, though she couldn’t keep the shock from her face as she answered on autopilot. 

"That's very interesting doc. Umm, I'm not even late yet, so that's a bit of a surprise."

"Yes, well, it's standard procedure before giving x-rays to test for high concentrations of a hormone call hCG, which signals pregnancy even if it's been less than a month. I can assure you that this is very real and, based on your shocked expression, I'm guessing not something you were expecting. The clerk at the front desk has a number of pamphlets on family planning and the contact info for local OB-GYNs that I think you'll find helpful. In the meantime, however, definitely no x-rays. There's no wiggle room on this and you should even reschedule your next trip to the dentist."

This last phrase jogged an unpleasant memory for Veronica and knocked her out of her stunned reverie enough to remember her goal. She managed to stay in the game enough to try and salvage what she was here for - fake x-rays.

"So wait doc... is there any way you can help me with the proof the car insurance company needs?"

The doctor shook his head. "Like I said, Miss Lawrence, I'm pretty certain your ribs are fine. If you're really concerned, you can go to the hospital and ask for an MRI, but that's not something we're equipped to do here and such procedures can be quite ... costly". The doctor glanced pointedly at Veronica's stomach on this last line, and there was a not-so-subtle implication that Sarah Lawrence was going to be needing all the money she could hold on to. Veronica Mars, PI tried her best stay professional and hold it together, but she thought she was going to be sick.

The doctor took that as his cue to leave, and started to get up. "I know that this is a lot to process Miss Lawrence. Given the circumstances, I wouldn't feel right charging you, and I'll make sure the front desk will comp the visit and lab fees. I'll give you some time to get dressed, and if there's anything else you need, you just let one of us know."

Veronica tried to get dressed with the same efficiency that she had disrobed, but remained in a stunned stupor, barely processing what the doctor had said. She fought with all her might to keep her composure together. All she could think of as she headed towards the clinic door was, "I didn't get the x-rays."

The doctor caught her arm as she was about to leave. "Miss Lawrence. Here - I didn't want you to leave empty-handed," he said as he handed her a cylinder the size of a baseball.

Was this salvation? Some x-rays to use, or info on where to get them? Was the doctor just messing with her about being pregnant? Even if he was serious, could poor, pregnant Miss Lawrence get something to salvage the case, at least? Veronica suddenly felt acutely aware that she really did need the bonus money for catching this guy in the act.

Veronica looked at her hand and her heart dropped. The doctor had given her prenatal vitamins.


	4. A Homecoming

In the parking lot of the doctors’ office, Veronica got in the silver RAV4 she'd been using for the last few years since the Hayley Dewalt case, sat behind the wheel, hyperventilated, and allowed herself to well and truly freak out for a bit.

After catching her breath and with some of the abject terror receding, Veronica realized her next step had to be calling the man she loved more than any other - her partner in crime (and sometimes justice), and hope that she could rely on him here too.

Veronica picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hey, where are you? ... Ok, give me a few minutes, I'll meet you there. ... No, I'm fine, we'll talk about it when I get there. ... Thanks Dad, I love you."

...

Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie sat behind a bank of computer monitors in the one properly-lit area of Mars Investigations' office when Veronica walked in. Mac peeked her round face out from behind a monitor as Veronica walked in. Mac’s clear blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and her face was framed with short parti-colored hair that interspersed strips of naturally dark locks with peroxide blond. As Veronica walked towards Mac, the buxom woman greeted her. 

"Hey Boss-lady. Any luck buying naughty pics from the doctor this morning?"

"Total strikeout." Veronica replied as she walked to Mac's desk over the stained concrete floors of the former brewery-cum-PI office. Veronica traversed pools of darkness through the cavernous entranceway, a space chosen for its price more than its ability to welcome prospective clients. At least Mac had a good amount of warning of any approaching guests. "Doc seems to be the only guy in town giving x-rays to non-millionaires. Insurance company shouldn't be surprised that people who have to work for a living end up going back to work early. Seems like a genuine nice guy. Get this, he didn't even charge me for the visit when I said I had no insurance." Veronica decided to leave out the other reason that the doctor may have given free medical care.

Mac's response was either mocking or utterly misanthropic. Maybe both. With Mac it was sometimes hard to tell. It was what had brought Mac and Veronica together in the first place. "A nice doctor? In this town? Sounds too good to be true." 

Veronica shifted into a spot-on Yiddish accent. "A nice _Jewish_ doctor, no less. You should be so lucky!" Going back to normal Veronica-voice, she added, "Unfortunately, also married. Sorry Mac." Veronica looked closely at the huge curved monitor Mac had been hiding behind. "Is that a new monitor?"

"Yup!" Mac replied with genuine enthusiasm. "Brand new 2017 Acer XR382CQ, 38 inch masterpiece. We can now check out the nose hairs of people on grainy security camera footage. Unless the footage is too grainy. Isn't she a beaut?"

"It's lovely Mac. Do you think you could set it up somewhere that will let you see who walks in the front door, though?"

Mac looked a bit chagrined. Although she was getting much better at playing secretary since she had joined Mars Investigations over three years ago, Mac's real value still lay in what she could do behind a giant computer screen or four.

"Sure thing. Hey, we still on for drinks with Wallace tonight?" Mac asked. Wallace Fennel was an old friend of both Veronica and Mac's back to their high school days. Since he had the dubious pleasure of teaching at their old stomping grounds, Neptune High, the three of them tried to meet up whenever Veronica's caseload and Wallace's basketball coaching schedule allowed.

"Oh, I totally forgot about that. Yes, we should definitely meet tonight, I could use a friendly drink..." Veronica was about to say "or maybe just the bottle," when she realized that she didn't want to talk about why she needed the drink so much, and that she actually couldn't have that drink anyway.

"Great!" said Mac, obviously unaware of Veronica's abortive cynical remark. In what was obviously a mocking tone she went on, "As your nominal underlying, I am happy to go where you say and nom upon what you command."

"In that case," retorted Veronica archly, wiggling her fingers mischievously, "as my digital consultant, should I take my digits and put them where _you_ command?" 

"O-ho!" Mac exclaimed appreciatively. In a fair approximation of Yoda she added- "Strong with the sarcasm, are you today!"

Veronica Mars use sarcasm as a defense mechanism? Never.

...

Mac knocked on the door to the office shared by Keith and Veronica Mars, and stepped in.

"Mr. Mars - Miss Mars here to see you."

"Thanks Mac,” Keith Mars acknowledged, as Mac stepped back towards her desk and closed the door behind Veronica. Keith was sitting behind his desk, reviewing some papers strewn about the solid chestnut surface with indecipherable scribbling on them - almost certainly Keith's notes on some project. Keith sat is a low brown chair that had a lot in common with the man himself - more than a little beat up, deceptively strong, and almost completely bald, but a tough piece of leather with a lot of years left. Plus it was comfortable like nothing else could be. Keith looked smartly dressed and cleanly shaven in a button-down shirt and corduroy pants – neat and clean but with clothes capable of being put to hard use. Keith's side of the office was neither neat nor clean, though it still showed plenty of smarts. Keith was surrounded by notes, bric-a-brac, and of course his model ships, which hadn't decreased in number but now had half as much space to occupy since Veronica had started sharing the office. The ships were stacked on top of filing cabinets and practically blocked the east window. Keith's PI license hung on the wall.

If Keith's side of the office ran the risk of looking like the beginning of an episode of "Hoarders", then Veronica's side was definitely the "after" photo with everything gone and the place cleaned up. Her desk, empty except for some notepads and pens neatly standing at attention in a holder, practically glowed in the September morning sunlight streaming through the large south-facing window. In a mirror image, Veronica's PI license was also prominently displayed on the wall - her law degree from Columbia University was, however, conspicuously absent. Having never sat for the bar, Veronica hadn't seen a point in giving Keith a constant reminder of her decision to leave a prestigious job offer back in New York to lead a glorious life of picking through people's garbage and tailing cheating spouses here in Neptune.

"Trying to crack the case of who broke into our office and littered your desk with paper? You're going to need one hell of a handwriting expert to make sense of that."

"Very funny, Sweetheart." Keith replied, putting the papers down on his desk. "Fortunately, I am one hell of a handwriting expert." His notes were also mostly superfluous, to help keep Keith's thoughts fresh - the organization and most of the facts were entirely in his head. "I was just trying to figure out the timeline on the Johnson case. The man is indefatigable- as best I can tell he has no less than three regular mistresses."

"What did the wife say when you told her?"

"Actually, I was hired by mistress number one,” Keith replied. Veronica raised her eyebrows on that announcement. Although Neptune, the quintessential town without a middle class, was no stranger to rich men having multiple ladies (or men) on the side, it was a rare occasion to have a mistress hire a PI. Keith went on, "I guess she was worried about the competition. But enough about my cases - you said you had something you wanted to talk about?"

Veronica took a deep breath and thought about how to do this.

"So, I've got a case..." she started. 

"The insurance scam thing you were checking out this morning?" Keith asked.

"No, another one. Pregnant girl, needs to track down the father of baby. Down on her luck and swimming in debt, but she's getting by fine for now. She keeps asking me for advice on what to do, and I don't know what to tell her. Should she keep it? Should she tell the guy? How can she raise a kid in Neptune? I've never been particularly maternal, and I'm having a hard time answering her questions."

"I see...” said Keith. His bullshit detector sometimes had some blind spots where his daughter was concerned, but was usually spot on. "And about how old is this girl?"

"Late 20's, maybe early 30's". Veronica replied matter-of-factly.

"Hmmm, sounds more like a grown woman than a girl," Keith said, giving his 30-year-old daughter a serious look. "Capable of making her own decisions about life." There was a bit of irony in that statement - Veronica had fought hard for him to respect her decision to come back to Neptune, but Keith never approved and he was frequent and vocal in his objections. "And what does she think the father will say once you find him?"

Veronica sighed deeply and thought hard before answering. "They have this kind of epic love story thing going. Drama, tears, excitement, and something that just keeps bringing them back to each other. He's out of town for work constantly- she'd practically be a single parent. Plus he's not the most stable person in the world - I think he was once described as 'impulsive, ingenious, and irreverent.' By himself. Proudly."

"Well, I have to admit, honey, it's a rare man that mentions his alliterative qualities alphabetically. I see what you're saying, but does she think this man will be there for the baby? For her?"

"I don't know." Veronica sobbed. "I don't know anything. It's just all so scary." Veronica rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, but right now she needed help.

Keith reached out and hugged his daughter. "And this pregnant girl- would she happen to a petite blond private detective?"

Veronica sobbed out a petulant, "yes."

Keith kept holding Veronica and tried to think of what to say. "Honey, I've been a single parent, and I'm not going to lie, it was hard. Maybe harder than I could handle - I worry that a lot of what's bad in your life right now is because you only had me, and I was doing this." Keith waved his hand indicating the office. Although this wasn't the same office he had used while Veronica was in high school, she understood that he meant the PI lifestyle he had adopted, and that she had also taken as her own. After Keith was unceremoniously dumped as Neptune County Sheriff, at the behest of tech billionaire Jake Kane, back in 2003, all their lives had been seriously upended. Veronica had never realized how much Keith blamed himself for Veronica giving up a legal career.

"Sweetheart, I know Logan loves you, and, from the outside, it seems like he would do anything for you. And I don't just mean the big dramatic gestures he's known for."

Veronica shook her head, "No. He couldn't stay here for me. He had five months left of shore rotation, but he shipped out because the Navy said they needed him. How can I know he won't be out there, flying by the seat his pants, when there's two of us and not just me? I've met the military girlfriends - for a lot of time, they're just on their own. I'm still getting used to doing that myself - how can I do that to a baby?"

Keith grabbed some tissues from his desk, a necessary PI tool in breaking bad news to clients, and offered some to Veronica. "I don't know, honey. I think that's something you and Logan are going to have to figure out."

Veronica went on - "And how am I going to afford a kid? Won't it be a little obvious to have a hugely pregnant woman tailing a cheating husband? Should I go on a stakeout and pop inside to use the bathroom every 15 minutes?" Even as she said it, Veronica realized it was exactly the wrong thing to bring up - when money or law school loans came up, Keith was quick to suggest Veronica take the bar and get her life back on track.

But Keith surprised her, being supportive now when she needed it most. "Veronica dear, I hate to mention the obvious, but your Navy boyfriend is also millionaire. I know you'd rather cut off your arm than ask for help, but even if Logan's not here, I doubt he'd let his child live in squalor."

"I suppose not." Veronica mused. "We would just be tabloid fodder."

"I doubt it." Keith said confidently. "The tabloids have ignored Logan for years, since the Bonnie Deville thing wrapped up." It was true, although Logan was frequently the center of media firestorms, it was all quiet on the Enquirer front since the murder of Logan's famous ex had died down. "Besides, you're no stranger to media attention yourself Miss _Vanity Fair_ ," Keith remarked with some pride, referring to Veronica's profile in the magazine after solving Bonnie's murder. It was true, Veronica had her own ups and downs with fame and infamy, though "Miss _Vanity Fair_ " had a much better ring to it than "Miss Naughty College Cheerleader Sextape." At least the Vanity Fair profile had been consensual.

"And what if I'm just not ready?" Veronica asked. "The last time I was even near a kid for any length of time was babysitting for a friend back in New York. I'm much better at tracking down parents behind on child support than I am supporting an actual child. How can I be a good mother when I barely had a mother of my own?"

"Let me tell you a secret honey, nobody's ever ready. I was 26 and had been with Sheriff's department for five years before we had you..." Keith mentioning this didn't help, actually - it just made Veronica realize she was four years older than Keith was when he had a kid. "And let me tell you, you didn't come with instructions! You figure it out. And kids are remarkably good at letting you know what they need - if you listen and pay attention."

Veronica dabbed at her eyes with a spare corner of tissue that remained unsoiled and thought about what Keith said.

"Do you think I can do this, Dad?"

Keith looked right into Veronica's eyes and said, "Honey, I've said it before and I've meant it every time - if you want to do this, I've got your back 100%, and I have no doubt you'll be amazing.”

"Thanks Dad. And, in case you didn't know, you're really good at this."


	5. An Announcement

Wallace Fennel and Mac were already seated at a table in the bar when Veronica walked into the Detour. Wallace waved a dark-skinned hand to catch Veronica's attention across the dusky barroom. The Monday night crowd was sparse, leaving empty swatches where shadows pooled. Both Wallace and Mac had mostly-full beers in front of them, apparently their first - the red alehouse lighting giving the liquid in the tall glasses a sickly gloss. A third tall glass, clear liquid with ice, was placed in front of an empty seat at the table, sweating in the unseasonably warm September heat.

"Veronica!" Wallace called. "Over here!"

The Detour was a favorite bar for the group, comparatively inexpensive, but not so divey that there were serious safety concerns. It was far enough away from the beaches on one side and from Hearst College on the other that college student traffic was rare. Actually, college student traffic was rare at most bars since the new Sheriff, Marcia Langdon, had started cracking down on underage drinking. But Veronica and her friends had started coming to the Detour under the lamentable Sheriff Dan Lamb administration, when dodging puking teens had been a real consideration, and now the bar was a regular hangout. The bar seemed to be in a perpetual state of half-light, as if the owner was afraid that the proper illumination would scare away customers like cockroaches. Maybe he was right. Cacti leaned drunkenly in corners and pictures of celebrities old and new looked on from walls, the glass covers reflecting the red light and giving the famous men and women a sinister sheen: Nicholas Cage, Tony Shalhoub, Tom Neal, Edmund MacDonald.

Veronica joined her friends at the table and took a gulp from the dripping glass of ice water. "Thanks guys! I needed that."

Wallace cracked a huge grin, "You know my life is incomplete until I get to do a favor for Veronica Mars. I figured buying your favorite drink would get it out of the way preemptively, before you ask me to steal a student file or go door to door selling pens. "

"Thank you, Wallace," Veronica said appreciatively. "You're a prince."

"Arr... no, I be a Pirate!" Wallace exclaimed, referring to the name of the Neptune High School basketball team in a truly horrendous pirate accent. "Basketball season be upon us, and this may be my last rum for some time!"

Veronica looked closely at Wallace's glass, "Talk like a pirate day isn't until next week, and I don't think that's rum. Lager, I believe? And an imported one? Mr. Fennel, you're a little short on pirate cred."

"Woman," Wallace shot back, in an affronted, but normal tone, "that's some harsh treatment to the man who just bought your first round," indicating the ice water.

"I don't think it broke the bank," Veronica bantered back.

"Yeah, well, it's what you usually drink most of the time anyway." Wallace replied. This was true, between Veronica's abject penury and the frequent need to do late-night stakeouts (complete with lack of bathrooms), Veronica usually stuck with water for these gatherings. She was, for once, grateful for the enormous law school loans. Those thousands of dollars of law school loans. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of law school loans. Scrooge McDuck could do a half pike into her loans. Really, Veronica thought, it would have been cheaper to buy a mansion and burn it down than go to law school, which, thanks to her stellar legal education, she knew were completely unavoidable even through bankruptcy. But, this one time, her relative poverty kept her from having to explain why she wasn't drinking alcohol. 

Wallace went on, "You have a stakeout later, or something? What are you doing tonight?"

In her best Orson Welles voice, Veronica replied, “the same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!” Veronica then used the faux-booming voice to laugh maniacally, or perhaps, megalomaniacally.

Veronica answered a bit more seriously, "But before I do, I have a Skype date with a hot sailor. We have some catching up to do."

...

Later that evening, Veronica sat at the desk in her third floor apartment, typing up the report for the insurance company and the Mars Investigations bill. The roar of the ocean from Dog Beach, a quarter mile distant, was barely audible though the deep casement windows. Bracketing Veronica's computer were two framed photos - a serious looking blond 7-year-old boy, Veronica's half-brother Hunter, looked on from the left, though the picture probably needed to be updated again. On the right was a recent addition, a picture Veronica had taken of Keith and Logan at the shooting range last month. Veronica still wasn't sure why a fighter pilot needed to be proficient with hand guns, but it had given them something to do together. Both men were smiling at Veronica, Logan with the now-usual close-cropped hair and his clever eyes behind yellow-tinted shooting glasses

A low growl behind Veronica caused her to turn, but it was just the dog calling out in her sleep. Pony, a huge jet-black dog of some indeterminate breeding, had lived up to her name and was probably big enough for Veronica to ride. At 3 years old, Pony was at her full growth, but didn't seem to realize it since she continued to try sleeping under claw-footed sofa on the other side of the living room. Logan liked to chalk it up to a tendency of the Mars women to get themselves stuck in a tight spot, but Veronica was pretty sure it had more to do with the couch smelling distinctly of Logan's aftershave - citrus, cedar, and most notably sandalwood. Not normally a sedentary person, Veronica had found herself on the couch more than usual in the weeks since Logan had shipped back off, surrounded by the bright and cheery 50's era travel posters, that were so at odds with her day-to-day life.

The familiar tones of an incoming Skype call came through Veronica's speakers, sending her scrambling to hit accept as quickly as possible. Logan's image appeared, at first just a pixilated form that clarified into a Grade-A hunk dripping sweat in a white muscle shirt - Veronica's bellicose beau, Logan Echolls. Seeing him tickled her heartbeat for a moment, as it always did. It was early morning in the Persian Gulf, and Logan, who had been an inveterate sloth as a youth, looked to have gotten his running in before everyone else awoke to ensure he made the prescheduled videochat slot.

Logan smiled, "There you are."

Despite everything wrong with the world, Veronica couldn't help but feel a bit calmer, that things weren't so bad, and she smiled back. "Here I am."

"And how's our baby?" He asked, clearly meaning Pony, who they had adopted together when she was puppy.

"Oh, if only you knew,” Veronica replied. "She misses you, but I think she's too proud to admit it."

"Oh, she does, does she?" Logan asked archly, clearly reading in that Veronica could have just as easily said the same of herself.

"She's still sleeping. Under the couch, of course."

Logan affected a shocked attitude, "I never thought I'd see the day - has Veronica Mars learned to let sleeping dogs lie?" Logan rarely spared the use of his razor-sharp wit, even when he ended up cutting himself.

Veronica set aside the repartee and steeled herself for what she had to say next. The connection on the boat was never reliable, prone to freezing or sudden, jarring disconnects - they had no time to waste if they were going to get through this.

"Actually, Logan, I thought it would be better if Pony were asleep. I have something important I wanted to talk abou-"

"Are you alright?" Logan asked urgently. It was sweet that he was so protective, especially of her. It had actually saved Veronica's life - a few times. But she'd rather he hadn't interrupted.

"I'm ... well, I'm pregnant." 

"Wow!" was all Logan could say, dumbfounded. He used a bare hand to wipe the sweat dripping from his face.

"Huh," Veronica gibed, "Logan Echolls speechless. I'll have to write this one down in my feelings journal," using one of his own lines against him.

Logan disregarded Veronica's remark, "Are you sure? How? Is it mine?" 

Sometimes Logan managed to say the exact wrong thing. Given how often he talked, it was bound to happen sometimes, but Logan managed to hone in on the perfectly wrong thing to say more than his fair share. Veronica just glared at him for a bit, before she realized that he probably thought the screen had just frozen.

"Yes, it's yours! If it's not then you should check for a new star in the sky and three wise men over in your neck of the woods!" Veronica exclaimed. As she said it, Veronica realized that wallowing in the frequent infidelity of others may have made her a little sensitive on this point.

"I'm not sure about much in this," Veronica continued, "but the doctor today seemed pretty certain. As for how it happened, I believe it was the usual way, though quite a bit more energetically and a few more times than most other people, in my professional opinion. Glistening muscles, smooth skin - you remember right? Or do you want a recap of the lurid details. Pretty sure you were there."

"I remember our farewell party ... vividly," Logan replied. "And for the record, I meant how you knew that you are pregnant, not how you got pregnant. So what did the doctor say?"

"Nothing helpful. Avoid X-rays. Take some vitamins." Veronica said, as an awkward silence started to settle around her. This was going all wrong. She needed Logan to be her partner and not just devolve into fighting interspersed with banter. She shouldn't have snapped at him about whether it was his - Logan was taking the news in better stride than Veronica's vehicular meltdown earlier. Again, Veronica just didn't know what to do, which may have been the most frustrating part of all this to the decisive Veronica Mars. She felt more alone than at any other point that day.

"This is AMAZING!" Logan exclaimed, with unrestrained joy on his face. "I love you so much! I know I just got shore leave last month, but I think I can call a few favors and get time Stateside pretty quick. Especially for this."

And sometimes...sometimes Logan managed to say the exact right thing. It never ceased to surprise and gratify Veronica. 

Veronica asked in wondrous disbelief, "I snap my fingers and you come running? Easy as that?" Logan had been an intangible will-o'-the-wisp, just out of reach for the better part of four years. They had worked so hard to be together despite everything, having him come back now was beyond comprehension. It was exactly what Veronica had dared hope for, and seemed too good to be true.

"You need me there - I'm there." Logan said. "You say jump, I ask how high. There is no doubt in my mind that I love you, and no doubt in my mind that I will love and protect that kid. My dad was gone more than he was around, and it destroyed my mom - I refuse to do that to my child. It IS as simple as that. But easy? You know us - we're not easy. Look at what it takes to get you to ask for help. The Navy is still my life and I can't be sure how much I can be there. But right now, I'm going to do everything in my power to get back to Neptune ASAP."  
In that moment of perfection, when it looked like everything was going to turn out well, Logan's Skype connection cut out abruptly and left Veronica staring at a dark reflection of herself in the black mirror of the blank computer monitor. Of course, thought Veronica, nothing is ever easy. Even as she frustratedly tried to reconnect the call, she couldn't help but feel optimistic and giddy about Logan. Logan was going to come back, and even try to stay - it made her smile just to think about it. Even their missteps took on a lighter tone - of course Logan had only asked if it was his in shock. She was perfectly loyal, and he knew it - it was laughable to think otherwise. Veronica had no secret mystery man on the side.

Veronica's cell phone rang, showing an unknown number. Satellite phones were rarely used from aboard ship, but Logan had said he would do everything in his power to get to her - he might have somehow gotten hold of one to call her back after the abrupt disconnect.

"Hello?" Veronica asked.

The voice that answered wasn't Logan's, but sent a chill up her spine all the same.

"Veronica. It's your high school boyfriend. I need your help. My daughter's been taken."


	6. An Unexpected Encounter

Duncan Kane, the love of Veronica's younger life, who had disappeared into the aether 12 years ago, was on the phone. Veronica felt like she had been hit with a bolt of lightning - given the day she was having and her usually unflappable nature, she would have thought she was immune to this level of shock. A welter of emotions swirled around Veronica's head - surprise, affection- her old feelings for Duncan coming back quickly in hearing his voice, sorrow and anger at hearing about his daughter.

None of this distracted Veronica from noticing that Duncan had refused to use his name. Given the technology at the Nothing's Secret Agency, it was probably a good idea to avoid mentioning certain words in ways that computer monitoring could pick up - the name of international fugitive Duncan Kane was probably one of them. The word ‘kidnapping’, too. Even worse, for all she knew, the FBI might be monitoring her phone directly, hoping for just such a break in the Duncan Kane case. Veronica had interned at the FBI the summer after her freshman year of college, right before transferring to Stanford. One of the less pleasant interactions during the FBI internship had been a run-in with Agent Morris, the agent in charge of locating Duncan, who still seemed suspicious of Veronica a year-and-a-half after Duncan had extralegally run off with his newborn daughter. If the FBI really was tapping her phone, then Duncan was basically done, but after almost 12 years, any warrant they had likely expired.

It was easier to figure out the cloak-and-dagger protocols here than process the emotions - is it really paranoia when people are actually out to get you? Papa Hemingway would say no. So Veronica stuck to business. "Well, mysterious stranger, as good as it is to hear your voice again, I know at least one software billionaire, among other people, who is pretty good at getting voices to sound like other people. How do I know this is really you?"

Duncan wasn't wasting any time responding. Normally easygoing and quiet, he definitely sounded tense and in a hurry to move - if what he said was true, Veronica didn't blame him. 

"I lost my virginity to you," he said. Common knowledge, practically the entire town of Neptune knew that. Veronica and Duncan had been high school sweethearts, after all, and fairly well-known.

"At Shelley Pomroy's party sophomore year," he continued. Not as well-known, but a bunch of people, including the late, gossipy Bonnie Deville nee Carrie Bishop knew that story.

"After Logan Echolls dosed me with GhB," he concluded. Ding-ding-ding-ding! We have a winner. To Veronica's knowledge, only herself, Duncan (because she told him), and Mr. Baby-daddy knew that story. And Veronica still felt weird calling Logan a baby-daddy.

"Ok, I'm in." Veronica said. "How do I get to you?"

"Don’t call me from this number again - make sure whoever in your office you need has a temporary number too. You're booked on the 1:30 am flight to New York - JetBlue/Dahlia Airlines. Someone will meet you at JFK, Terminal 5 ground transport. You're helping out your law school friend Gilda Hayworth with an urgent case. And Veronica..." for the first time this conversation, some of the Duncan's usual relaxation entered his voice, “thank you."

...

Fortunately for Duncan, Veronica kept a few burner phones, trackers and transmitting microphones around her apartment, which she threw into a worn black wheelie-bag along with her passport, laptop, camera, some clothes and toiletries. The snub-nosed .38 special that Keith had given her, however, stayed in the gun safe. Getting a gun past TSA was a fool's errand, and most places in the world took a dim view of guns. When Veronica had lived in New York City she heard constant stories of out-of-state bodyguards and New Jersey cops being busted for carrying a weapon without a local license – it was more trouble than it was worth. For similar reasons Mr. Sparky, Veronica's stun gun, also got left behind in favor of pepper spray.

A quick call to Mac got her a burner number to reach Mars Investigations' personal tech support. Logan got a hastily written email saying she was going to be out of town for a few days on a case, and to keep her updated on his shore leave or rotation. And that she loved him, of course. It took a while for Veronica to open up to people, but once she had told Logan she loved him, it was important to keep saying it. Especially because it was true.

Last, Veronica called Keith.

"Hey Dad, can I ask a favor?"

"Sure honey, what can I do for you? How are you doing?" Keith replied.

"I'm fine." Veronica responded automatically. "I actually got a job referral from a friend back in New York, and could use a ride to the airport and someone to look after Pony for a few days. It's a quick turnaround, so I'll try to catch a red-eye tonight."

"No problem. It gets lonely here at the bungalow without Backup, it'll be good to have a dog around again." Keith said, with a hint of sadness for the old family dog. "You want me to come pick you up?"

"No, I'll come to you," Veronica answered. "I have a stop to make first."

...

Vincent "Vinnie" Van Lowe was a competing private detective, who seemed to thrive on Neptune's seedy underbelly with a combination of a certain low cunning, flexible morality, and Jersey Shore-type good looks and charm. Based on a quick call to a reliable source, Veronica knew to find him at The Dark Corner, a topless female revue. Although technically in the tony 90909 zip code, The Dark Corner was located between two golf clubs - the large windowless building was isolated, hence the appropriate name. The outside of the blocky building been painted cerulean blue with pillowy clouds to fit in with the pastoral links that surrounded it; those not in the know likely thought it was just an oversized equipment warehouse for one club or the other. Its proximity to the golf clubs and other '09er establishments, but relative seclusion, made it a popular stop for wealthy men looking for lewd entertainment. Although Vinnie wasn't himself wealthy, in every other way this definitely seemed like his sort of place.

When Veronica walked into the darkened building, she tuned out the entertainers gyrating on raised stages, peered through the strawberry scented mist ubiquitous to strip clubs, and was able to spot her quarry quickly. Vinnie was a tall man, over 6 foot, with a full head of dark hair and blessed with the type of unlined face usually reserved for actors playing parts far younger than their actual age, making it impossible to determine how old the perpetually jejune dick was based on looks alone.

Veronica casually walked up next to Vinnie and greeted him, "Mornin', Sam." It was an old joke between them - Veronica and Vinnie sometimes shared an uneasy rapport, and Vinnie had done Veronica a couple of solid favors. The last time they had used this particular greeting, though, was when Vinnie was helping Duncan make good his escape.

Vinnie's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but his voice remained jocular, as he answered in his Italian-American accent, "Mornin' Ralph. What brings you here Mars? Amateur night is Thursday, though maybe you could show them your home movie," he said, looking her up and down," convince them you're a pro."

Veronica felt the familiar skin-crawling feeling creep over her, the feeling of needing to take a shower that Vinnie customarily instilled in her. "You know Vinnie," she said conversationally, "it's a good thing I left my gun at home."

"What? That was a compliment!" Vinnie protested. Oddly, in his twisted way, he probably had meant it as flattery. Further protests wouldn't be helpful anyway, and Veronica had a flight to catch.

"I'm here to ask what you know about Duncan Kane," Veronica stated.

"I don't know anything about that,” Vinnie reflexively answered. "And, of course, I would never have anything to do with criminal activity of any kind, like aiding and abetting a kidnapping. A guy could lose his P.I. license for that, y'know," Vinnie continued, looking at Veronica meaningfully.

"Right..." Veronica said sarcastically. "Or like breaking and entering Mayor Goodman's house, which almost got my father killed by the way. Or aiding and abetting the murder of Kendall Casablancas and the disappearance of Cormac Fitzpatrick."

"Hey, I'll have you know your father was very well compensated for that Goodman thing!" Vinnie objected. It was unsurprising that he thought of money first and morality second, if at all. "Plus, the Goodman family never pressed charges, and the other thing is pure speculation. I'm clean as a peeled egg."

"Ok Vinnie, down boy. So, hypothetically, if you had been involved in Duncan Kane's flight from the country, how do you think it might have happened?"

"See, Mars, that's what I like about you, always sharp. So, hypothetically, I would have taken the blond and the baby across the border, just like you told me to," Vinnie started. Even in his denials he was sure to implicate Veronica and make certain she couldn't use anything he said against him if she was taping the conversation - despite his sleaziness, he wasn't bad at this. "I would have picked up your boy down in Mexico, and taken the lot of them to Mexicali, where I would have introduced them to a nice man who could get them Mexican passports for a modest fee. And I would have made it a point to note the name on the passport, in case that somehow became useful later on. You know, hypothetically."

"A fake passport from Mexico isn't much to go on..." Veronica commented, trying to draw him out. Vinnie was at his most helpful and talkative when he was showing off his perceived superiority.

"Hunny, you don't know anything about Mexico, do you?" Vinnie patronized. "Anybody can get a fake passport in TJ for next to nothing, your boy went to Mexicali so we could make Goyo Toland all official-like." Score one for letting someone mansplain something - Veronica got the name Duncan had used in Mexico, and could start to piece together where he may have slipped up. Somewhere between Mexicali, Mexico and today, someone had found Duncan out and grabbed his daughter because of it.

"Thanks Vinnie," Veronica said as she prepared to leave. "And I’m sure any P.I. that knew something like that would hypothetically want to keep his mouth shut, since if Duncan were found it would cause some real problems for our hypothetical P.I. That was hypothetically very helpful.”

"Yeah, no problem." Vinnie replied, staring at the women on stage. "Tell Clarence I send my regards when you see him."

This brought Veronica up short. Duncan had been taking pretty extreme precautionary measures, but apparently more was going on. Vinnie had yet to get one over on Veronica, but it would be foolish to underestimate him because of his buffoonish demeanor or exaggerated Italian-American accent. This trip was getting more dangerous by the minute.  
“And what makes you think I’ll see Clarence?” Veronica asked cautiously.

"Tell you what, Mars. I'll trade you - you tell me how you found me, and I'll tell you what I know,” Vinnie responded, always looking to get something. In this case, though, Veronica wasn't giving up much, and she needed more information about the situation with Duncan.

"Sure thing, Vinnie. I have an impeccable source for all things Van Lowe, and she knows where you are almost all times of the day. I think you may know her."

"Ma!” Vinnie shouted incredulously. “You called my mother?! What, are we still in high school?" Vinnie's mother also served as his secretary, and had a soft spot for Veronica. It was actually kind of endearing to see how much the big sleazeball cared for his mom.

"Did she do you wrong?" Veronica asked.

"Nah, we're cool, blondie" Vinnie said, pointing between the two of them. "So, earlier today I got a visit from Mr. Clarence Wiedman himself, head of security at Kane software, asking about the same stuff you are." Vinnie said, in the same show-offy tone he had used in mansplaining passports. Somehow, Vinnie also made 'Mr. Wiedman' sound like an insult, and blondie like it was a given name. 

"And you're telling me this because..." Veronica questioned. Not that she didn't appreciate the head's up that this situation had gotten way more complicated than she had thought, but it was out of character for Vinnie to give anything away without payment. There had to be a reason for Vinnie's apparent generosity here, and she doubted it was out of the kindness of his heart.

"Because Mr. Wiedman, may he develop a severe case of jock itch, did not seem to appreciate the value I had brought to our little endeavor twelve years ago, and I'm significantly more likely to get something from your cute-as-button face."

"Well, Vinnie," Veronica replied, "I certainly have my charms, as you have yours." A little bit of flattery was an obvious response to the man, who clearly could be a bit vindictive over wounded pride. Surprising, considering how little respect Vinnie must get from the public - but then again, Clarence Wiedman wasn't just some guy off the street, he was a peer. Clarence was a hardened investigator and security expert himself, someone whose opinion Vinnie may have actually cared about. Plus Clarence hadn't paid anything and, from what Veronica could tell, Vinnie hadn't worked for the Kane family in quite some time - despite the fact (or more likely because) he had been hired by Celeste Kane to stop Duncan from fleeing the country all those years ago.

Veronica felt that the message Vinnie was sending to Kane Software was more about showing what they were missing, than from wounded pride. It was unlikely that Vinnie would have put effort into spiking Clarence Wiedman unless he thought it would lead to a payday and future Kane work down the road. Passing on Vinnie's message seemed fair. Plus, Vinnie might be biting off more than he could chew if Clarence Wiedman thought Vinnie was a threat to the Kane family.

"Will do, Vinnie," Veronica said, preparing to leave a second time. "You certainly have a lot of friends in low places."

"Why do you think I think I spend so much time in joints like this? For the view?" Vinnie asked rhetorically, splaying his arms broadly, and methodically looking around the twilit room at the dancing half-naked women on display. 

A leering smirk appeared on Vinnie's face. "Ok," Vinnie admitted, "I'm here for the view also."

...

Veronica called Mac while driving the dark winding roads around Neptune's golf courses, the lack of houses and lights giving the night a pitch blackness that was rare in the seaside town. As Mac picked up the phone, Veronica heard Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You” coming from the other end, which quickly quieted as Mac either turned down the volume on her phone or exited the bar.

"Mac Attack!" Veronica called. "I have not one, not two, but three feats of skill for you. But before we get to them, I need to know how you feel about aiding a possible criminal for a noble cause."

"That depends, Boss, how noble is this noble cause? True love?"

Veronica was struck by that question. She loved Logan, and if Veronica decided to have the baby, she couldn't imagine doing it without him. But why had she agreed to help Duncan so readily? Why was she willing to put herself, and maybe the child, in harm's way for a man she hadn't seen in 12 years? True love?

"Close enough, Mac. A 12-year-old girl has been taken and we've been asked to find her. Help me out?”  
"As you wish. Of course, sign me up!" Mac said enthusiastically. "Who's the villainous scum bad enough that you even had to ask if I'd help rescue a child?"

"My high school boyfriend," Veronica deadpanned. Aside from running away with his own baby, who he then renamed Lilly in honor of his dead sister, Duncan Kane was most definitely not scum. If anything, he had kind of been the golden boy of the town before leaving.

"Oh. OH! Wow." Mac's stunned exclamations perfectly encapsulated just how conflicted Veronica herself felt about this case.

"Ok," Veronica asked, "which task do you want first, the impossible, the hard, or the easy?"

"C'mon Boss, hit me with your best shot. Fire away." Mac was always eager for a challenge.

"Alright, impossible it is. Is there any way you can hack into the Kane software email servers and find out what either Jake Kane or Clarence Wiedman knows about what's going on? I have good reason to believe that one or both of them know something, probably directly from the person who took Lilly."

"I'm insulted, Veronica!" Mac protested, "It's like you don't even know me. Do you even remember where I worked before I joined the prestigious Mars Investigations?"

"Kane Software..." Veronica answered, not sure how she had insulted Mac.

"So," Mac replied, "I don't need to hack Kane software's email system. I can just log in and pull it for you."

"Don't they usually delete your email account after you quit? And weren't you a programmer, not tech support?"

Mac responded matter-of-factly, "See, Veronica, how could you think I would work somewhere for any length of time and not create an alter ego with sysadmin privileges that I would keep after leaving."

"You're the best Mac!" Veronica exclaimed. "And, as your current place of employment, remind me to never fire you or send incriminating emails anywhere in your general vicinity."

"Will do, Boss. Ok, what is my second task?"

"Second, the hard task, look up everything you can on Goyo Toland, passport issued from Mexicali early 2006. T-O-L-A-N-D. See if we can figure out how Duncan was discovered."

"Ok, can do. And the easy one?" Mac asked.

"Buy Vinnie Van Lowe a drink. A nice bottle of scotch." Veronica trusted Mac's taste in scotch, and could leave it to her discretion to pick one.

"Ewww..." Mac cried distastefully. "Do I have to?"

"Sorry Mac, yes, you have to."

"I'm not sure I can do that..." said the woman who had no problem hacking into one of the most secure companies in the world.

"Just drop it off with his mom early morning before he gets in. Oh, and bring her a couple of snickerdoodles from the office cookie jar while you're at it."

"Fine," Mac sulked. "I'll do it, but I'm taking a shower right after."


	7. A Voyage

Veronica sat in the passenger seat of Keith's beat up sedan as they drove through the night, on their way to the Neptune airport. The sere California roadside whizzed by as Keith fiddled with the radio, looking for appropriate road music on the way to the airport, when the speakers started blaring out the classic Looking Glass tune:

" _They say, Brandy... fetch another round...she serves them whiskey and wine..._ "

"Whoops!" said Keith, abruptly changing the channel before the song could go further.

_"I'm back... in the New York groove..."_

"Now that's more like it!" Keith exclaimed. Even Veronica had to admit, it was a good start to the journey, though if she were picking the music it probably would have been a bit more Alicia Keys and less KISS.

"So, back to the big apple?" Keith asked. "Trading in your Maltese Falcon for Kiss of Death?" Referring to two of his favorite movies, one famously set in California and the other in New York.

"I don't know what cases you've been working, but the only jewel-encrusted bird I've seen in California was Petra Landros." Veronica replied, referring to the former underwear model who had iconically walked down the runway in a diamond-encrusted bra. Ms. Landros, now the owner of the Neptune Grand Hotel and a driving force in the Neptune Chamber of Commerce, was a regular client of Veronica's. "Plus, I hope that this job coming up doesn't involve old ladies getting pushed down stairs."

"Fair point, fair point. You take care of yourself out there all the same. And you let me know who your NYPD contact is when you get out there." Keith's old habits as a cop always made him want a partner or backup, preferably both. This was something that the independently-minded Veronica didn't generally agree with, but Keith was just looking out for her, and this was her first time investigating 'for two' as it were.

"Sure thing, Dad."

“Hey, so did you pack any pepper spray?” Keith asked. He had a bit of a laugh in his voice, like that was funny, but Veronica didn’t see the humor.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag.”

“That’s good,” said Keith. “You never know when you’ll run into that shady Trump character and have to use it.” Keith grinned and chortled like he’d said the funniest thing in the world and had to keep himself from laughing uproariously. Veronica just gave a frustrated sigh and an eye roll - she had told that joke to Keith before their first trip to New York, many years before. It had not aged well.

"So who's this friend you're helping?" Keith asked.

"Gilda." Veronica replied

Keith kept his eyes on the road, but raised his eyebrows up towards his nonexistent hairline. "Is she decent?" Keith asked.

"Very funny, Dad." Veronica responded. "It's a family name and she's a friend from law school. She said she needed help immediately on something she's working on. I should give her a call now to follow up." Veronica added silently to herself – ‘and to make sure she'll cover for me if anyone checks on this story. Like my suspicious father.’ 

Veronica searched her phone's contacts for 'Gilda Hayworth.' As she hit the name, a picture of a curly blond-haired knockout in her late-twenties came up, along with a couple of phone numbers and 'Hathaway & Preminger LLP,' the name of Gilda's high powered law firm employer in New York. Veronica hit the number marked 'mobile' as Keith remarked, "Isn't it the middle of the night in New York?"

"Oh, you know the glamorous life of the corporate lawyer, there's a reason they call it the city that never sleeps - corporate lawyers work all hours, especially the junior ones," Veronica replied, hoping that at least in this case it was true.

After several tense moments of the phone ringing, the other line picked up and a drowsy sounding Gilda spoke on the other end of the line, "Hello? Veronica?" Veronica quickly turned the volume on her phone all the way down so that her father could only hear her side of the conversation.

"Hi, Gilda. Sorry to call so late, but I wanted to check on that job I'm coming to New York for. Are we set for tomorrow?

"Oh, yeah, Teddy said you might call." Gilda said with a languid calm. "He'll get you set up with whatever he needs you to do. I guess technically Hathaway & Preminger is contracting you, but Teddy's the client and we're just on retainer as needed. I'm your H&P contact on this, send me any expenses and the firm will reimburse you."

That was an unexpected development, but it was good to see that Duncan was covering his bases. Duncan must have also thought ahead – contracting Veronica through a law firm alleviated any interstate PI licensure issues, which was nice. The contrast between Duncan's tense urgency and Gilda's relaxed sleepiness was surprising, and Veronica wanted to see how much Gilda knew about the situation.

"Thanks, G." Veronica said. "Anything else you can tell me on this?"

"Sorry, V," Gilda yawned. "I don't know anything beyond 'privileged and confidential' and 'extremely urgent,' making it no different than most of my life. I guess it's a little unusual that Teddy is having us keep his name confidential, but this is his thing, you should talk to him. Y'know, it's funny, I hadn't realized you knew each other."

"Yeah, me neither. I think he just got a referral, I've never met the guy. I'm sure I'll catch him tomorrow," Veronica replied.

"That's one hell of a referral to fly you in all the way from California."

"What can I say? I do good work," Veronica answered wryly. "Thanks again, G."

"No problem, give me call if you need anything," Gilda said as she hung up.

...

Keith returned to the Mars Investigations office early the next morning, settled into his battered leather chair, cleared off his desk, lay out a work cloth, and started a new ship in a bottle. Each ship had been started at the beginning of something big, kind of christening life events and major cases. The process of building the ships was helpful in calming the mind, and gave Keith something to turn to when his thoughts ran around in circles, providing a break and fresh perspective. The ship he had started on losing the Balboa County Sheriff's office, the first time in 2003, was displayed prominently on the wall opposite Keith's desk, where he could always see it. The large ship-of-the-line was meant as a constant reminder against hubris, and the need to be vigilant against threats both physical and political.

This ship was the start of something else. Things were looking pretty good for the Mars family for the first time in a long time. Veronica had never seemed likely to settle down, but Keith's greatest joy was his daughter. She was his greatest frustration too, but as he sat in the chair meticulously putting together the pieces in front of him, he was hopeful that Veronica could find the same joy in parenthood that he had. It was also gratifying to see that some of her New York connections were paying off, and that maybe her time there hadn't been wasted. Corporate investigation wasn't as exciting as the work they did, and wasn't going to fill Veronica's yen for seeking justice, but it was considerably safer and better-paying.

Mac wasn't at her customary place behind the front desk, but Keith had no expectation of seeing her - if Veronica got an urgent call it was likely that Mac had worked through the night. The quiet in the office was so thick it pressed on you, but the former sheriff turned gumshoe was focused on his project. Keith Mars' quiet morning reverie was interrupted by the staccato drumbeat of high-end heels clacking on the old cracked floor of the Mars Investigations office, echoing in the resounding antechamber. Keith carefully lifted the work cloth on which all his materials had been laid out, and transferred the nascent ship to the top of an out-of-the-way filing cabinet. He was just sitting back in his chair as a full-figured woman wearing a form-fitting and well-tailored gray business suit stepped into view, framed by the open doorway.

The dappled morning sunlight came through the east window behind Keith, highlighting the woman's exotic cast and perfectly coiffed dark auburn hair. The sizeable diamond rings on her hands occasionally flared in the intermittent daylight, but the studs in her ears practically glowed, giving the former Victoria's Secret angel a fiery halo of her own.

"Mr. Mars?" The beauty asked, swiveling her hips as she glided into the room, the clack of her heels giving a dual exclamation point to her entrance. The quality of light shifted to put her face in shadow, and now highlighted the smooth, toned legs extending from the designer black Manolo Blahniks up to the smart skirt that flirted with being too short for appropriate business wear. 

"Petra Landros," she introduced with a musical lilting soprano.

"Yes, of course,” Keith replied, putting on his inscrutable poker face. Ms. Landros was certainly beautiful, but she couldn't have looked more predatory if the diamond studs in her ears had been teeth. And she hadn't come all the way down here for a social call. In Keith’s experience, people in positions of power didn't leave the seat of their power without good reason. "Please, have a seat. Veronica is out of town for the next few days on client business, but is there something we can do for you?"

The former model made a quick glissade around the chair opposite Keith and gently sat, crossing her legs suggestively. "That's quite alright, Mr. Mars." Petra fluted. "I'm here for you."

"Certainly, Ms. Landros. How can I be of service?" Keith replied. Being polite and conscientious to super wealthy clients was just good business. In terms of clients, though, Ms. Landros was more shark than whale. 

"I hear that you can be relied on to be ... discreet." Landros purred. "And that you and Sheriff Langdon used to be friends."

"A long time ago," Keith admitted, "we knew each other. I'm not sure Marcia really had friends."

"Precisely, Mr. Mars. I'm very pleased to hear that." Landros cooed. "The Chamber of Commerce has had a ... complicated relationship with the Sheriff. We believe it would be beneficial to all involved if we worked together from a place of greater knowledge. So tell me, Mr. Mars, can you get me everything there is to know about Sheriff Marcia Langdon?"

Keith Mars kept his stoic mask in place and looked at the deadly beauty in front him. Looking a little higher, Keith contemplated the ship-of-the-line hanging on the wall behind Ms. Landros, and the internecine political squabbles that had landed him in this predicament in the first place.

"I'd be happy to be of assistance Ms. Landros, and you can be certain of my absolute discretion."

...

Veronica stepped off the Terminal 5 jetway at JFK International Airport mid-morning, New York time, carrying just her laptop, wallet, phone and passport. Her unwashed hair was bound up under a grey Neptune Sharks baseball cap that she had bought last-minute before departing Neptune, and she was distinctly aware that she hadn't showered since the day before. She could taste the smell of stale strawberries from her meeting with Vinnie.

Veronica's trip though TSA beforehand hadn't left her in a kindly disposition - the last-minute one-way ticket had flagged her for additional screening. Thankfully, Veronica had checked her bag with the suspicious electronic devices and pressurized irritants, but even so the TSA agent had eyed her petite frame suspiciously when she said she was pregnant and refused to go through any body scanners or x-rays. The doctor had told her one thing to do, and she was damn well going to do it. After much ogling, poking, prodding and hassling, Veronica had finally been allowed through, but it was a good thing that the airport had been so empty late at night, as she barely caught the plane anyway.

Mac had been a miracle worker, as always, and a quick conversation after landing at JFK had gleaned a lot. For starters, Senor Goyo Toland had apparently hopped a flight from Mexicali, Mexico to Sydney, Australia in early 2006, and then promptly disappeared. Although this was a dead end, it also meant Duncan had been pretty cautious. The Kane software emails had provided a much better lead - Jake Kane had received an anonymous email with a picture of a 12-year-old girl that simply said "$100m gets you your granddaughter. Instructions to follow. You have three days to ready the funds." The picture had been haunting - little Lilly Kane had her namesake aunt's arresting green eyes, and dirty blond hair that was closer to the elder Lilly's than to the girl's birth mother, Meg Manning. The resemblance was uncanny. The picture of the sad girl staring at Veronica from the photo couldn't help but remind her of her best friend, dead all these years but still missed.

The ransom email had been sent 6:21 pm New York time the day before. The picture itself was just a close-up of Lilly’s face, giving no clues about location, but whoever sent it must not have known that the email could be traced to the IP of an internet cafe in downtown Brooklyn. This explained both how Clarence Wiedman had gotten involved in the first place, and also suggested that he knew to come to New York. Of equal importance, there had been no mention of Duncan or any knowledge of what was happening on the ground, meaning that even though Clarence and Veronica had the same objective, they may not be on the same team. 

As Veronica walked out the airport gate, she did not see any sign of Clarence Wiedman. If he wasn’t here, it was because he either didn’t know she was on the case, or because he didn’t think he needed what Veronica knew. Veronica’s money was on the latter.

Picking up her luggage at the Terminal 5 carousel for her flight, she walked, wheelie-bag in tow, towards ground transport. As she walked down the carbon monoxide choked concrete underhang heavy with airport traffic, a distant goateed figure with mirrored sunglasses waved at Veronica. Next to the waving figure was a besuited man with an Indus Valley complexion. As Veronica drew closer, she grew suspicious, and studied the goateed man, who had neatly-cropped sandy brown hair and a fashionable suede jacket over black slacks and unpretentious practical black shoes that looked like they would be appropriate in either most business settings or running through the busy streets of Manhattan. His eyes were obscured by the reflective shades, and the lower half of his face was covered by thick brown facial hair. 

“Veronica,” the goateed man said, “it’s so good to see you.” The voice was unmistakably that of Duncan Kane. After almost 12 years away from him, he was close enough to touch. Veronica forgot about the mad dash though the Neptune airport, the gritty feeling of yesterday’s clothing and uncomfortable sleep she had tried to force herself into on the plane - her entire attention was focused on Duncan.  
Duncan's tall, lean frame had thickened a bit, but despite the years, he looked fit and trim. Certainly no beefcake like Logan, he looked to be a regular runner or cyclist, maybe a triathlete. Those would be logical matches for the former soccer buff. The biggest obvious change, though, was the gold wedding band around his left ring finger. Veronica thought she shouldn't be as shocked as she felt - it had been over a decade since she and Duncan had dated, and life went on. Veronica had had a couple of serious long-term relationships since - hell, she was pregnant now, and in no position to complain about Duncan moving on. Even so, it felt odd to be in the same space as him and not be with him.

The towncar behind the men was a sleek black Lincoln with fully tinted rear windows and, in a rarity for the smaller towncars, a full partition between the driver and passenger areas visible through the front windows. The swanky car wasn’t exactly low-key, but there were enough around New York that it wouldn’t stand out, and having Duncan come out here and give Veronica a head start on the case was good thinking - every minute counted.

Turning to the darker man, Duncan shook his hand, “Raj,” Duncan said appreciatively, “I really appreciate your help here. It means a lot to me. Do you think you could take us back to Brooklyn?” Veronica was reminded how kind Duncan was to everyone he met, how he made them feel valued and interesting, even if they weren’t rich or famous. It had made him a good reporter for the school paper, and a great class president. And, of course, was a major reason Veronica had fallen in love with the boy. It was good to see some things hadn’t changed.

“Certainly, Mr. Welles. I’m happy to be of service,” the man answered in a clipped Indian accent. 

The driver helped Veronica put her bag in the trunk, and everyone entered the car. As the Lincoln pulled away, Duncan raised the privacy partition and turned to Veronica.

“Welcome to New York,” Duncan said, “Theodore Welles, Esquire, at your service. Teddy to my friends, Duncan to my family. You can call me Duncan.”


	8. A Reunion

Veronica faced Duncan “Theodore Welles” Kane across the plush back seat of the black towncar as it charged and bumped its way through New York City traffic towards Brooklyn. Studying his face without the sunglasses, she saw the familiar perfectly-balanced nose and intense blue eyes, more than a little bloodshot from lack of sleep and starting to crinkle at the corners - likely more from stress than age - god they were only 30. A collared shirt peeked out from under Duncan’s jacket – his favorite color – blue. Up close she could make out his strong chin through the goatee, and forced herself not to stare at the full lips she had kissed so often. 

“It’s good to see you again, Duncan. I just wish the circumstances were different.”

“What, you mean cryptic late night phone calls and spy versus spy matchups against Clarence Wiedman aren’t how you pictured our reunion?” Duncan asked, with a ghost of a smile. His humor had always been understated, and he knew well that, in truth, Veronica thrived on this sort of thing. The chase, the analysis, the search for justice or (where warranted) a bit of payback. But the part with the missing innocent girl put a sour note on the whole affair.

“No,” Veronica said wistfully, “I guess I hadn’t really thought about how our reunion should go. I’m not doing so well with them lately.” In fact, the last reunion Veronica had participated in had gotten Gia Goodman killed, but mentioning that to a nerve-wracked father seemed impolitic.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I didn’t know who else to turn to. I can’t go to the police, for obvious reasons. I don’t have practical access to any Kane Software funds, and anyone who would take Lilly for ransom would do just as well simply blackmailing me with my identity. I’ve gotten good at hiding, I think, but maybe not good enough. For me, for Lilly ...” Duncan’s voice started to break, “you’re my only hope.”

Veronica had seen a lot of pitiable figures among the downtrodden of Neptune, but seeing Duncan Kane, the strong pillar of decency from her childhood fighting back tears for his missing daughter - it broke her heart.

“Duncan, I promise you, I will do everything in my power to get your daughter back to you ASAP.” Veronica said resolutely, realizing only after how much it echoed Logan’s last words to her.

“Thank you Veronica,” Duncan said, pulling himself back together. “Lilly is everything to me - I haven’t regretted giving up the Kane legacy for her one day. What do we do now?”

“First, you should know what I’ve got so far. Whoever took Lilly, they went to your father with the ransom demand. They will ask for the money in two days. The ransom note came from Brooklyn, and your father knows it. What’s the situation with your father and Clarence Wiedman?”

Duncan deflated a little at Veronica’s report, and took a deep breath before responding, “Well, that’s not good news. I was hoping Dad was the one who took her - at least then she’d be safe. I haven’t talked to my father since before I left Neptune. I would get advice and help over the phone from CW sometimes, but haven’t in over a decade.” Veronica took note of the familiar nickname for Clarence Wiedman - as someone Wiedman was hired to protect, Duncan must have had a very different experience of the man Veronica knew as an intimidating and lethal operator. 

“CW got me access to a Swiss bank account with a bit of money in it, but I haven’t touched that since Mexico.” Duncan continued. “Our contact has mostly been limited to text messages from burner phones.” Duncan thought long and hard, it looked like he was exhausted and focusing was difficult. “The last time I heard from CW, he made it sound like Dad was frustrated with the whole thing, and wanted Lilly to go home with him - he was certain he could buy a way to make it work.” This was in character for Jake Kane, a man who thought he could cover up a murder and get away with it.

“I didn’t get any messages about this situation.” Duncan concluded. “I have to assume that if CW gets Lilly first, he’ll take her away. If you can find out what is going on and trust CW, great, but right now I don’t.”

“Ok,” Veronica said, organizing her thoughts. We have a ransom demand that expires in days, ruthless competition in the form of a former Army Intelligence officer, and an unstated but very real threat to blackmail or out Duncan’s identity. We also have a megalomaniacal grandfather who tragically sees his granddaughter for the first time in a ransom note, a distraught father with no way to get the ransom money even if he knew where to pay, and a missing and likely very scared little girl.

“Search and rescue, it is.” Veronica concluded. “I think I can stay ahead of Wiedman, and even take advantage of some of his resources. Is it problematic that he knows you’re in New York?”

“For my identity? I’m less concerned with CW than with the FBI. I think he could have tracked me down years ago if he wanted to, and he’s keeping me separate from everything because he genuinely wants me to be with my daughter, and to insulate dad from any Duncan fallout. He has a son himself. Family, loyalty, and honor mean everything to CW.”

Veronica processed what Duncan said, and wondered if her ex-boyfriend was being overly optimistic. Along with making people feel valued, Duncan also always believed the best of people - this was not a good time for such naïveté. But, he had been living this situation for years, she had to go with the best information they had. Hopefully they would find out more from Wiedman or the Kane email servers as this developed.

“And if Wiedman comes to you for information to find Lilly?” Veronica asked.

“Then I help him.” Duncan said simply. “Even if it means losing her to my father. Her well-being comes first. I’ll figure out the rest later.”

“I’m going to need to know everything there is about how she disappeared and what your life was like.” Veronica stated.

“Absolutely.” Duncan responded. “I’m happy to answer any questions, and we’ll meet up with Astrid at home. She can answer anything I can’t.”

Veronica stole a peek at the gold wedding band on Duncan’s hand and asked, “Astrid, as in your Mom’s former assistant? The one who doubled as me for a phone call and ran off with you to Mexico?”

“Yes, that’s her. She’s basically been Lilly’s mother since we left.”

“So you’re married and the three of you live together?” Veronica asked, trying to keep a level voice and think about Logan, and how she had moved on, and not about the man in front of her.

“Oh, no.” Duncan said casually. “Sorry I wasn’t clear, it’s been a rough night. Astrid’s more of a business partner for me. The official story is that Theodore and Laura Welles split several years ago, but she lives in the apartment next door and we coparent.”

“Coparent?” Veronica asked

“We both act like parents with no romantic connection. Y’know, doctors’ visits, school pickups, meet the friends, making dinner, the all-day everyday stuff. Sorry, you live in Brooklyn too long and you start to pick up the vocabulary. You know how it is.”

“No,” Veronica said wearily, “I really don’t.” The issue, though was not Brooklyn lingo leakage, but that Duncan’s offhand remark brought home Veronica’s impending doom of child rearing. How much her life would change with a kid. At that moment, Veronica desperately tried to think of anything other than Logan and how unready she felt for her own life.

“Oh,” Duncan said, surprised. “I thought you lived in Brooklyn for three years. It said so in Vanity Fair and everything.” 

Duncan stared at Veronica for a bit and thought the profound thoughts of one who hasn’t slept enough and lacked the mental filter to stop himself from saying blunt truths. “You know, Veronica, for a _Private_ Investigator, you’re not very good at keeping a low profile.”

...

The rest of the drive to Duncan’s apartment gave Veronica the crash course in the Welles’ life. The family doctor was the only one who knew their real identity, in the event of medical necessity. Lilly and Duncan lived in a nice apartment in a luxury high rise on Scarlet Street by Prospect Park in Brooklyn. Lilly went to school at the prestigious Quaker Academy of Brooklyn. Dance classes, music lessons, Lilly was a busy girl, and obviously talented. Already fluent in Spanish, Lilly was working on Russian. Lilly had gotten into the Academy largely on merit, though Duncan’s local political connections had been helpful - he was good friends with two of the local City Councilmen and was owed a few favors by the powerful Mayor of New York City. 

“So, you’re a New York politico.” Veronica stated. “How did that happen?” It was possible that either Duncan’s identity leak or the perpetrator of the kidnapping were connected to his work. 

“As much fun as it was sitting on the beach, I had to think of Lilly, and what kind of life I wanted, and how to raise her.” Duncan started.

“This was in Australia?” Veronica asked.

Duncan raised a quizzical eyebrow, impressed that she knew this even though he had been with her the entire time since giving his new name.

“I have to ask,” Veronica diverted the conversation, her curiosity getting the better of her, “that was around the time Aaron Echolls was mysteriously killed. Did you have anything to do with that?” The movie star, and reviled father of Logan, had killed Duncan’s sister.

“Like you said, I was in Australia.” Duncan replied with a straight face.

“And Clarence Wiedman?” Veronica pressed

Duncan gave an eloquent shrug that had practically been a trademark in high school, “You’d have to ask him that.” 

Veronica couldn’t read Duncan’s face, though he did seem ... vaguely satisfied about the topic. Duncan’s simple inscrutability raised Veronica’s estimation of the man. Duncan was a player in some high stakes games. Veronica paused briefly to collect her thoughts and went on.

“Why not just keep living abroad?” Veronica asked

“What, like Roman Polanski?” Duncan asked.

Veronica’s mouth curled into a moue of distaste, as she spit out, “Yes, like that.”

Duncan appraised the extreme response, “Not a Polanski fan?”

Veronica answered firmly, “No, I’m not a fan of rapists. Even if they directed Chinatown.”

“Well, I don’t have French citizenship to protect me, so it’s either hide in Russia openly like Snowden or hide my identity. Let’s call Russia a ‘backup plan.’ Australia would extradite me as quick as anything if they knew who I was, so it actually didn’t matter so much where I assumed a new name. I wanted Lilly to grow up with good schools and good friends and I’m comfortable with the American system. I needed to go back to school too - a high school dropout teen dad isn’t what I wanted to be. So, I went back to school and earned an International Baccalaureate degree in Australia as Theodore Welles. After that I came back to the U.S. for university and, eventually, law school at NYU.”

“NYU?” Veronica asked, mentioning the rival to her alma mater Columbia. The two New York schools were generally regarded as among the most prestigious in the nation, and both frequently placed their graduates among the elite law firms in New York and worldwide.

“Yeah, turns out I escaped a near miss - we graduated law school the same year and if you’d taken the bar I’m sure we would have run into each other at the Javits Center. That would have been awkward.

“Now, I can help people. I get things done. Imagine if Cassidy Casablancas had someone to turn to about being molested? We could have saved lives, we could have saved Meg’s life. Imagine if we had safer roads? People wouldn’t die in car accidents. It’s not sexy, but knowing the movers, sweating the details, it makes the world better.” Duncan Kane seemed to have more in common with Veronica than she had thought, though he seemed to relish being a lawyer, while Veronica had run from it.

“Who’d have thought I’d end up like this?” Duncan continued. “My parents had pushed me towards politics and law school. They wanted me to do something I’m passionate about. Turns out they were right, I’m not going to be someone who _stands idly by._ ” This was an accusation Veronica had lobbed at Duncan himself, many years ago while he was running for student council president. It may have been overly harsh at the time, and it certainly seemed to have hurt Duncan deeply if he remembered it after all these years.

“Well, admitting our parents were right sometimes is supposed to be a sign of maturity or something, right?” Veronica asked rhetorically. “So, stoic billionaire. Secret identity. Vigilante outside the law.” Pausing briefly for effect, Veronica locked Duncan with a serious gaze. “Determined resolve to save Gotham City. You’re Batman right?”

Duncan laughed. A full-throated laugh that cracked through the tension and worry that had been evident on his face and in his voice the entire time they had talked. The guffaw seemed therapeutic to Veronica’s ex-boyfriend, and brought back some of the familiar contentment Duncan had shown around her.

“No,” Duncan laughed, “I’m more _Michael Clayton_ than Batman. No bat-nipples for this Clooney. I think if anyone’s Batman, it’s hellbent for justice Miss Mars here.”

“Nah, I’m more of a _Jessica Jones_ fan, myself.”

“And since when has Veronica Mars become a comic book fan?” Duncan asked

“I really liked the Netflix show.” Veronica replied. “So, not-Batman, who exactly do you work with? Are there any coworkers or clients that may suspect you’re Duncan Kane?”

“Well,” Duncan explained, “I started at Hathaway & Preminger with Gilda, but left after a couple of years to start my own practice focusing on high net worth individual confidential advice. I mostly do trust and estate work, consults on charitable foundation formation and operation, some confidential arbitration, and a bit of city permitting and lobbying work.”

“So, consigliere, you know where all the bodies are buried, huh?” Veronica asked. The naked city of New York was turning out to work a lot more like Neptune - rich people and their secrets made for a volatile mix. That Duncan was able to jump from junior lawyer to a trusted advisor of the wealthy spoke of significant political acumen. He must have done some impressive behind-the-scenes work and networking instead of just reviewing contracts in an office.

“Just illegitimate children and mistresses so far, no bodies yet. Most of the time it’s just about money.” Duncan replied. That didn’t sound much different from Veronica’s usual caseload. “Ironically, one of my larger client groups are Kane Software and a number of the executives. Nobody who would recognize me - the New York and Neptune offices don’t overlap much. Dad might be surprised to see how much I know of the Kane business. I’m even on the advisory council for the Kane scholarship! Anyway, I’ll get you an encrypted flash drive with a client list when we get home.”

“And Astrid?”

“She’s a writer, works from home. My parents did pay for her grad school like she always wanted, but she couldn’t keep her name. She seems ok with it, and loves Lilly like a daughter. You’ll have to ask her for any literary contacts.”

“Alright,” Veronica acknowledged, “how about Lilly’s school, what would be the best way to get information there?”

“We have a ‘get to know the teachers’ pamphlet with names and pictures, you can take that to start. I told the school that Lilly isn’t coming in and to expect you today or tomorrow.” Duncan replied as the towncar pulled up in front of a gleaming glass residential high rise in Brooklyn.

“This looks like our stop, Scarlet Street,” Duncan remarked. “Here, this is for you” Duncan explained, holding out a green American Express corporate card. It had Gilda Hayworth’s name embossed on it, just above “Hathaway & Preminger LLP.” As much as Veronica preferred to use cash to keep from tracing things, an all-but-anonymous credit card was a useful tool. Veronica usually went with a prepaid card, but this would work almost as well and avoid the need for excessive cash withdrawals. The prepaid credit cards Veronica had brought didn’t have much on them, and New York City could get expensive, fast. Veronica even had a passing resemblance to her friend, if all you looked at was age and blond hair. Duncan continued:

“There’s a reservation for you at the Gotham Hotel in downtown Brooklyn, in Gilda’s name, that you can use as home base. It’s walking distance to Lilly’s school, a couple subway stops from the Scarlet Street apartment. There’s a blue coupe in the hotel parking lot if you need it. Rental car. Here’s the key,” he said, handing Veronica a keyfob marked with the Hyundai logo.  
After Duncan got out of the car, he held out a hand and helped Veronica out of the towncar. Veronica got a thrill through her body as Duncan held her hand in his strong grip.

“Thanks Duncan. I’ll get started right away. First stop will be talking to Astrid.”

...

As Duncan went ahead to get the teacher introduction for Quaker Academy of Brooklyn and his client list, Veronica took the opportunity to check in with Mac again. Mac got started on background checks for Theodore, Laura and Lilly Welles of Brooklyn. Realizing how much she needed to talk to Logan, Veronica also asked Mac whether that was safe. Apparently Veronica’s Mars Investigations laptop had been routing its internet connections through anonymous server farms in Europe and the Middle East for years, making it impossible for Clarence to pinpoint her based on internet traffic. Unfortunately, Clarence was similarly undetectable. Mac never ceased to amaze, and Veronica was going to have to rely on her friend heavily the next few days. It felt good to know that Veronica wouldn’t give away any information by Skyping her pugnacious paramour, but since there was no way to know what was recorded on Logan’s end, she would still have to be careful what she said.

Veronica grabbed her bag and took the modern-looking elevator up. The elevator was well lit with natural stone detailing, in keeping with Duncan’s understated but well-to-do lifestyle, a far cry from the cramped studio Veronica had lived in while in Brooklyn. Veronica exited on the 10th floor and strode to Astrid’s apartment, which neighbored Duncan’s, and rang the bell.

The door was answered by a coppery-haired woman in her mid-thirties, with a few errant strands of gray. It took Veronica a moment to remember that Astrid, who had successfully passed as Veronica at some points, had been dying her hair blonde back then. This was probably her natural hair color. Astrid’s angular features, watery hazel eyes and prominent ears didn’t keep the woman from being quite attractive, though the slight hunch to her shoulders spoke of many years in front of a laptop or an attitude that she was put upon by the world. Based on what Veronica heard and remembered, it was probably both. Astrid wore a comely patterned cotton dress that looked comfortable for staying in the house and thick enough to endure some autumn chill, though it may be too heavy in the unseasonable mid-September warmth outside right now. 

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me, my name’s Veronica. I’m here to help find Lilly.”

Astrid gave Veronica a bit of a skeptical look and replied, “Of course I remember who you are Veronica. I also remember all the trouble you tend to bring with you. Even so, I’m glad you’re here to help, please, come in.

The interior of the apartment was tastefully decorated in a classic style that was unexpected given the modern exterior and elevator. A large dark wood table dominated the living room with matching tuille-patterned chairs surrounding it. A slender grandfather clock stood immediately before the door with a similar dark stain. Within the interior of the apartment, several parlor chairs were visible in a nook, facing a large flat-screen TV set to look like a fireplace. The large curtains along the sizeable windows were pulled back, provided ample natural light and keeping the staid furnishings from becoming oppressive. As Veronica walked into the apartment, she idly wondered if “Laura” Welles had a secret compartment in the grandfather clock as she passed.

“Please, have a seat.” Astrid indicated the parlor chairs.

Seating herself, Veronica thanked Astrid and thought of what to say. Unlike Duncan, with whom she had too much history, with Astrid she had practically none. Best stick to a brief consoling remark and straight to business, then. “I want to let you know that I will find Lilly and bring her back. I need to know as much as I can about the circumstances around which she was taken. I already got some information from Duncan, but I want to hear your story. What can you tell me about your life in Brooklyn?”

Astrid breathed a sigh, “It’s so weird to talk to someone new about our life like this. For the longest time, it’s just been me and Teddy. Or Duncan. Do you mind just calling me Laura and him Teddy, it’s just so much easier? This is our life. I left taking abuse from rich bitches and doing their laundry behind a long time ago. I think of myself as Laura, and we don’t mention the other stuff. Teddy and I haven’t told Lilly yet, and I don’t think Teddy even told his ex-wife, Kathryn Mason Welles.”

“ _Ex_ -wife?” Veronica asked. Few things could stir as much conflict or be as acrimonious as a bad marital split, and although kidnapping a stepdaughter was a bit beyond the pale, some people would do anything for a big payday. Duncan had also completely failed to mention her.

Astrid made a frustrated noise, “Ach, I don’t know what you call them. Widowee? Late wife? She and Teddy were college sweethearts, but she died in a car accident biking home from work last year. Hit and run. Teddy was a wreck the first few months, but was starting to come out of it when this came down like thunder from a blue sky. Unhappy star-crossed Duncan Kane - the poor man thinks he’s cursed.”

Veronica also noted that while Astrid seemed to think well of ‘Teddy’, she thought sad ‘Duncan’ was a mess of trouble. Between that and her obvious antipathy for Veronica, Astrid seemed keen to leave the past behind her. But Veronica needed to know more, and her taciturn ex-boyfriend would apparently avoid speaking of this at all costs - this was Veronica’s best chance to know about the late Mrs. Welles. Besides, the recent life of the Welles family was important, and if there was a fresh change, like a death in the family, it may have made Duncan sloppy. The deceased wife certainly seemed to have increased Duncan’s passion for traffic safety, if he was mentioning it at the same level as preventing mass murder. Despite Astrid’s discomfort, Veronica pressed the issue.

“Cursed? How?”

Astrid gave Veronica a meaningful look. “Every woman he’s ever loved has been tragically torn from him. His sister is brutally murdered, and his parents think he did it. He didn’t. He thinks his high school sweetheart is his sister, and she thinks he raped her. When it turns out they’re both wrong, he has to leave her behind for the sake of his child. The mother of his child thinks he abandoned her, and then is callously killed by a serial murderer. His college romance and happily-ever-after wife seems to turn all that around and he finally gets a happy family. Then Kathryn dies in a pointless accident. And now this, his daughter is kidnapped by some sick twist. Teddy is one of the best men I know, and the best father Lilly could ever hope for, but frankly, I’m glad my marriage to him was only a cover story - I’m not sure that he isn’t cursed.”

That refrain sounded all too familiar - Veronica often wondered if she herself was stuck in some Shakespearean tragedy or Godfather movie, incapable of changing, surrounded by death and scandal, working to weed out and uproot misery only to be covered in its taint herself and bring it home to her and those she loved. Veronica wondered if she was fated for failure by her own arrogance and hubris. 

Duncan was a sweet and decent man. Veronica’s college boyfriend, Piz, had also been a sweet and decent man, but in many ways Duncan’s desire to do right and his tragic history much more closely aligned with Veronica herself - she could easily see how he might feel cursed. 

Was Veronica the same foolish college girl who had cost her father the sheriff’s job, trying to get payback that wouldn’t help anybody for emails that couldn’t be unsent? Gorya Sorokin, an unmitigated ass to be sure, had released a sex tape of her, taken without her knowledge or consent. The taping had been part of the initiation proceedings of a college secret society at Hearst, the Castle. The Castle also conveniently kept blackmail-worthy confessionals of all their members, a tempting target for payback. Gory’s confession of watching his father and uncle disposing of human bodies had been too radioactive for even Veronica’s vindictive sentiments, and she hadn’t used the material except to provide the names of Castle members for a lawsuit. But the damage had been done, and Keith lost his Sheriff’s job, with an assist from Jake Kane, because he was protecting Veronica from the consequences of snooping where she didn’t belong.

After her father lost the election, Veronica had fled to the comfort of Stanford University, without the assistance of Jake Kane, thank you very much. She didn’t pay attention to Neptune politics for a while, with just a vague understanding that Keith’s opponent, Vinnie, never took over the Neptune Sheriff’s office. The ensuing chaos had eventually resulted in the Dan Lamb administration. Veronica was able to salvage one thing, getting Jake Kane to walk back his story of Veronica breaking into his house, so that her father wasn’t prosecuted for evidence tampering to protect her. Keith stayed out of jail and didn’t lose his P.I. license. A small comfort if Veronica was to make a happy life. Veronica’s decision years later to leave New York, to go back to the cesspool of crime and scandal, made her wonder. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. Could Veronica make a life for her future? For a child? Being pregnant, now, was a crucible, a test to see whether she had really grown. Because, if not, maybe a stop to Planned Parenthood was in order.

“Alright, Laura, I think we might be getting a little off-topic,” Veronica said. “Let’s go through yesterday’s events and how you discovered she was missing.”

Astrid looked up and to the left, over Veronica’s head, reconstructing the events of the day before. When she spoke, her voice was flatter, with far less emotion in it than when discussing Duncan.

“I went to pick Lilly up from dance class. Side Street dance studio up on Remsen. She usually goes from here to school on the subway with Teddy, and from school to dance class with friends. Dance class ends at 4:30, but when I got there she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Her friends said that Lilly hadn’t walked with them, and they thought she might have just gone home - they were pretty shook up and felt bad for not telling someone sooner. We checked Lilly’s phone, but it was off. Teddy and I had put a GPS tracker in Lilly’s _Frozen_ backpack years ago as a precautionary measure. When we searched for it, we found the backpack” - Astrid’s eyes started to water. Even though Astrid hadn’t given birth to the girl it was obvious that she loved Lilly, and the thought of what that backpack meant was traumatic.

“...it was in a trash can a block away from the school. Not torn or anything. Someone must have dumped it on purpose.” Astrid went on, with some rawness to her voice, “The last time anyone saw her was her last class at school.”

“Do you have a list of the friends that went with Lilly from dance class to school?”

“Yeah, it’s just Lilly and three other girls. Teddy put together their contact info last night, I’m sure he can get it to you.”

“You said Lilly took the train regularly. Did she have her own MetroCard?”

“Yes, of course.” Astrid answered. “Every kid does, the city sends the reduced rate cards in the mail. Why does that matter?”

“I’ll see if I can track down where her card was used, might show where she went.”

Astrid looked at Veronica with naked hope in her eyes. “You can _DO_ that?”

“I can try.” Veronica responded. “How about your professional contacts? Is there any way someone from there could have found out about your past?”

“I doubt it,” Astrid sniffled, still recovering from her near bout with sobbing, “I’ll email Teddy my address book, he can add it to the other stuff he’s giving you.”

“Is there anything else you can think of, Laura?”

Astrid wiped the tears from her eyes and glared balefully at Veronica, and with a voice thick with emotion roared “If you find my daughter, you tell her that we love her. And if you find whoever did this, you make sure that they can’t ever do it again!”


	9. A Study

Veronica stepped out of the Welles’ Scarlet Street apartment building with her bag following her like an eager puppy. In the bag was something that gave Veronica a bit of pep in her step as well, a flash drive with Duncan and Astrid’s contacts, Lilly’s cell phone call and text history, the information of the Side Street dance girls, a list of Lilly’s teachers and class schedule, and the Quaker Academy of Brooklyn teacher get-to-know-you book. Duncan had obviously been on the case and ready with what Veronica needed - it was impressive to see him come through in a crisis.

Veronica had checked out Lilly’s room to get a feel for the girl. Unlike Veronica’s eclectic mix of music, memorabilia, girly-girl necessities and tchotchkes at that age, Lilly Welles seemed like an altogether more serious 12-year old. Veronica had gotten serious enough by 16 - she just hoped the current ordeal didn’t shake Lilly as much as Veronica’s teenage life had been overturned. 

Lilly looked be an aspiring world traveler and scientist. The door to her room had a large sticker affixed that, rather than her name, read “STEM is for Girls” in glittery pink letters. Mixed in with the requisite girl magazines like Teen Vogue, Cosmo, blush and other makeup, were a couple stacks of well-worn National Geographic, Natural History magazine, and a lone Scientific American with someone else’s name on it, certainly borrowed. With the exception of a picture of the International Space Station, the posters on the wall looked like UNESCO world sites, the Sydney Opera House, the Roman aqueducts outside Marseilles, the Parthenon and, of course, the Empire State Building. Lilly had her own iPad which (after getting Duncan to unlock it) revealed a reading list that was equal parts teen books, English literature, and Stephen Jay Gould. The collected works of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and a few other pieces of Spanish literature were there as well - in Spanish. Fewer games than you would think, but plenty of social media activity - Veronica noted a picture with the Side Street dance friends and sent it to her phone for easy reference. No other pictures or social media posts jumped out at Veronica. Veronica had taken Lilly’s iPad with Duncan’s permission and, in a fit of either overpreparation or optimism, also grabbed a clean set of Lilly’s clothes for when she was found.

Veronica touched base with Mac on her way from the upscale Grand Army Plaza apartment building to get to the subway - Court Street and Lilly’s school were a few stops away and it was impractical to walk. Contrary to what out-of-towners think, it’s usually quicker to take mass transit than grind through the dirty, congested and pothole-strewn streets of Flatbush Avenue. Maybe Duncan had a point about road safety. Besides, Veronica wanted to scope out the camera situation at the subway stops and might get lucky if an MTA worker stationed at Court Street saw something. New York definitely involved more grit and walking than Neptune - traveling underground past the rats and permanent sludge near the third rail was definitely a different experience than dodging bikers on the PCH. It’s a good thing Veronica had already had years to get used to the New York smell.

“MacGuffin! What have you got for me?”

“MacGuffin?” Mac asked. “That’s a new one.”

“It is an object, full of mystery and much desired by all.” Veronica intoned solemnly. “What do you think?”

Mac pondered a moment. “Mmm ... I’ll take it! Just steer clear of McDonald’s-based nicknames.”

“Will do, Mac Master. So, whatcha got?”

“Theodore and Laura Welles are practically boring. No original records available from Australia, where they were supposedly born, married each other and had Lilly, just vital statistics. Marriage was in June 2006, after Lilly’s birthday.

“Laura went to University of Sydney for college on an accelerated program, I guess because it was her second time around, Theodore got his IB degree for high school. Both went to Michigan, her for a PhD in English Comp, him for undergrad. They divorced in ‘09 - he remarried a Kathryn Mason almost immediately.

“Theodore and Kathryn took Lilly with them to New York when he graduated Michigan and started NYU. Laura followed the next year, after getting her PhD, and moved in next door. Theodore and Laura got U.S. citizenship in 2012, meaning Lilly did too. No criminal records, no issues, Theodore sailed through the New York State Bar admission and its background check easily. Nothing notable until Kathryn died in 2016 in a traffic accident with a sizable insurance payout, but no foul play suspected. 

“I looked into the dead wife too, a bit more interesting. A bunch of arrests for political protests. For work she was a bit political too - had a stint working for the city, and then went to a charity doing child outreach. 

“I couldn’t access any medical records for anyone, but Kathryn was a heavy contributor to an online miscarriage support group in 2011.” As if Duncan’s story wasn’t depressing enough, he had been trying for more kids. Of course.

Mac concluded her report, “Basically, Boss, if there’s a crack in the cover story, it’s a long, long time ago in a continent far, far away. Somewhere in there they must have gotten Australian birth certificates for the three of them, and a high school transcript for Laura, but based on the timing of the marriage, it and everything after was probably legit. For that matter, I have no idea how Australia works - the birth certificates might be official too, and the U.S. passports wipe away the past pretty well.”

“Thanks, Mac,” Veronica replied. Walking down the tree-lined Brooklyn streets, Veronica considered how suspicious it was that Theodore and Laura didn’t speak with Australian accents. Was that enough to give them away? Veronica doubted it - nobody seems to care that Mel Gibson doesn’t use one, and American TV is pretty popular everywhere. Plus, Americans are pretty America-centric, they just take it as normal when someone sounds like them. 

“It sounds like someone must have recognized Duncan or Astrid.” Veronica commented. “Can you get me a list of people that live in New York City, Long Island, Westchester or northern New Jersey now that used to live in Balboa County at some point 2000 to 2006?”

Mac’s normally indomitable attitude started to show a bit of wear at that request. “You know, Boss, that about 10 _million_ people call that stinking metropolis where you used to live home? With at least two states and four different county recordkeepers for the surrounding area?”

____

“Yes, Mac, I’m aware.” Veronica admitted. “On top of that, whole droves of people pretend not to live in New York to avoid state taxes or high car insurance rates, but we need to start somewhere, and Neptuners living here are our best bet.”

Veronica was struck by something - she did know of at least one Neptuner who would recognize Duncan on sight, definitely lived in New York, and probably had some motive against the Kane family: Lilly’s aunt, Lizzie Manning. The last Veronica had heard of Lizzie had been several years before, when her younger sister Grace mentioned she was a chef somewhere in New York City - that warranted a follow-up.

“Tell you what, let’s just start with just one for now - Lizzie Manning. Where is she now, where does she work? For the rest - you’ve never let me down before, Mac. Just give me the best you can - I have absolute confidence in you.”

“Ok, Veronica. I’m traveling right now - I stepped out for some breakfast and to stock up on Code Red for the next few days - I can pull Lizzie’s info once I get to the office for the morning. For the other stuff - I guess if I download the Balboa County residents and dependents for those years, download them to a .dat file, filter out the people who haven’t moved away and the dead people, and see which of _those_ people are near you, it won’t be completely impossible. I make no guarantees on this one, though, Boss Lady.”

“You work your techno-magic Mac. I understand the limitations and that we’re under a time crunch, I’ll take what I can get. Lilly will appreciate it.”

“Low blow. Way to use guilt over a little girl lost. I’m on it - you had me at MacGuffin.”

“Actually...” Veronica added, “I could use one more favor. A big one. Can you access the MTA cameras and MetroCard records?”

Mac let out a maniacal laugh caused by a combination of the ridiculously huge favor asked of her, Mac’s already sleep-deprived and overcaffeinated state, and one other factor that Veronica didn’t know about. It was a surprising reaction from the normally understated and frequently monotone and sardonic Mac.

“Oh, Veronica. I’m glad you think so highly of me, but even I can’t do that on top of everything else. Fortunately for you, and very fortunately for my friend, I know just the person to help you. I met the guy in charge of cyber security at the NYPD at DEFCon, and I’m pretty sure I can convince him to help. Just let me go home and I’ll videochat him.”

“Defcon? Like, the warning for nuclear war? And I thought you were on your way to the office.” Veronica asked, confused.

“DEFCon is the annual hacker convention in Las Vegas.” Mac clarified. “And trust me, PC is much more likely to help if I videochat him from home. I’ll send you his number - his name is Paul Chan, but he usually just goes by ‘PC.’”

An awkward silence hung between Veronica and Mac on the phone, as Veronica attempted to hold in laughter of her own. After a few beats, Mac broke the silence,

“Go ahead. Ask it. Everyone does.”

“Well...” Veronica lead, “I mean, you’re Mac, he’s a PC... are you PC compatible?”

“Ha. Ha.” Mac said flatly, without any humor, to indicate the distinct lack of anything resembling funniness in the joke. “Expect his help on this. And Boss lady, when this job is done I’m taking a few days off and using some vacation days in New York.”

“Well, that answers that question. I’m staying at the Gotham Hotel. I’m checking some things out in the neighborhood - should get to the hotel around 1:00 and should be ready for PC by 1:30. I am in dire need of a shower, I still smell like Vinnie Van Lowe and used stripper. I feel like someone drenched me in Paris Hilton perfume.”

“Eww... she has a perfume? Way to be a buzzkill.”

“Yeah, I know, I think I just gave myself nightmares for the next few weeks.” Veronica commented. Then, with heartfelt gratitude, said “Thanks a million Mac, you’re a lifesaver. Really.”

...

Feeling refreshed after a quick shower and fresh clothes, Veronica checked her laptop in her 17th floor room at the Gotham Hotel. 

A quick call to the offices of Dr. Samm Levine, M.D. had given the family doctor a good alibi from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m. Monday. The doctor – a cousin to Duncan’s physician in Neptune - had been booked solid, working in his office throughout the afternoon, as his receptionist had confirmed. The receptionist had been very helpful to the person she thought was a confused Laura Welles. It turned out that Laura had stopped by Dr. Levine’s office the day before without an appointment, but couldn’t remember when, and had accidentally left her iPad somewhere. Veronica had confirmed that “Laura” definitely had the iPad at 2 p.m., and if the pop-in to Dr. Levine had been before 2, then she must have lost the iPad elsewhere – thank you. A further check might be warranted if Dr. Levine had worked with an accomplice, but he was a family man and established physician, making him a low flight risk.

Mac had sent Veronica the relevant info for Lizzie Manning, who it turned out worked as a chef at an upscale restaurant not far from Lilly’s school. Lizzie lived in Windsor Terrace, a Brooklyn neighborhood about 20 minutes away by subway, with her girlfriend. The fact that boy-crazy rebel Lizzie Manning turned out to be gay was surprising, but certainly explained why she didn’t have much relationship with her ultra-conservative parents back in Neptune. As a chef, she would probably be at work in the evening - Veronica would stop by there before the dinner rush at 7. People ate late in New York.

No updates from Paul Chan yet, but an email from Logan did brighten her spirits - he had finagled a Skype slot for 3 am New York time. It was one of the least desirable slots - midday for on-duty navy personnel and inconvenient for family back home, it was the best Logan could get last-minute. Veronica responded with a definite maybe, but most sane people were asleep at that time, even in New York - she doubted she’d need to be tailing someone at that hour and she should be able to make it.

Veronica’s slog through the Brooklyn underground had netted her: one delicious bodega sandwich; two subway stations that each had two security cameras; three MTA employees who hadn’t seen any sign of Lilly yesterday afternoon; and four homeless men begging for money, none of whom had seen anything useful either, though it had cost Veronica half of her delicious sandwich to find that out. The cameras at least appeared operable and hooked to a central feed, so there had been no tapes to pick up at the station - she hoped that she could get copies from Paul. There were also what appeared to be a few NYPD public safety cameras around Borough Hall on the walk from the subway station, which might have gotten something useful. Two other subway stations, Jay Street and Hoyt Street, were also in close walking distance, and Veronica would need to check on them later, but her first focus had to be the Quaker Academy of Brooklyn - it was the last place Lilly had been seen and where she had the most interaction with nonfamily. In preparation of going to the school Veronica pulled out the Quaker Academy of Brooklyn welcome packet and started to flip through it, looking for Lilly’s teachers, when her plugged-in phone bounced and buzzed excitedly on the table. Caller ID showed an incoming call from an unknown Manhattan phone number.  
“Hello?” Veronica greeted. She customarily wanted to see who was calling her before giving anything away - she frequently gave out fake names and backstories when trawling for information, and using the wrong accent or organization name could be a giveaway. She wasn’t aware of any outstanding aliases, but it was good to enforce the habit.  
“Hi, is this Veronica Mars?” a masculine voice asked. “My name is Paul Chan with the NYPD, I was told you needed a consult to help with a case?”

“Oh, hey, PC! Thank you so much for your help, Mac says that you’re the best.”

“Does she now?” Paul asks, obviously pleased. “Well, I’ll just have to live up to her lofty expectations, then.” Veronica could see why Mac and her sardonic wit might get along with Paul Chan of the NYPD.

“Oh, based on what I’ve heard, I have no doubt you will.” Veronica flirted. Based on Mac’s description, or lack thereof, Veronica pegged Paul as a computer geek who liked attention from real women. Even if it was blatant stereotyping, a bit of flattery and ego stroking could go a long way. “Can you look up the MetroCard number for Lilly Welles, W-E-L-L-E-S and see what activity it’s had the past week? She gets a discounted card directly from the city as a schoolchild. Also, can you get the camera feeds for Court, Hoyt and Jay Street stations, Grand Army Plaza, and the cameras around Borough Hall, for two to six-thirty yesterday, along with any subway stations where and when Lilly’s card was swiped since 2 pm yesterday?” Veronica thought about anything else that might be helpful, and added one more request. “Also, any security cams near the corner of Court and Atlantic from five to seven, would be really helpful.” That was where the Internet cafe that the ransom email had come from was located.

“Yeah, ok, I can get that. Videos are saved by the day, I’ll upload the cameras you want.” Paul responded. “Runaway?”

Veronica considered her options. If she was going to get help from the NYPD she needed a cover story. She couldn’t say kidnapping - for obvious reasons that would lead into why Lilly was kidnapped and who Duncan really was. She could try to say someone was blackmailing Teddy Welles over some shady political thing, but that didn’t really explain the missing kid. Alleging a custody battle wouldn’t hold up past someone seeing Astrid and Duncan lived next to each other. She could try to say that she was representing someone that Lilly had stolen something from - but when it was determined that Lilly wasn’t home, then Lilly would be both a criminal and a runaway. Runaway was looking like the best option, if necessary, but even that seemed unpalatable - potentially resulting in amber alerts and statewide publicity. Maybe getting local police involved had been a bad idea.

“I’m not really at liberty to discuss - do you really need to know?”

The NYPD cyber security expert suddenly became grave and humorless. “For me? Not as long as I don’t suspect abuse. The second I do, I follow my duty as a mandated reporter. We take that kind of thing very seriously and I don’t care how hot your friend is. Understand?”

Despite the inconvenience, Veronica could respect Paul for only bending the rules so far. A man who would let a child be endangered for some flirting or whatever their videochat had been wasn’t worth Mac’s time.

“Totally fair Officer Chan.” Veronica replied. “I can assure you that I am not aware of any abuse, and if I become aware of it, I’ll bring in the cavalry. Good enough? So what now?”

Mollified, PC reverted back to a laid back and helpful demeanor. “It’s Captain Chan, actually, but ‘PC’ is fine.” Veronica should have realized they wouldn’t stick a beat officer in charge of such a sensitive area, but he seemed unconcerned about the slip, and he hadn’t mentioned his rank when he introduced himself. Mac had been right, though, this did seem like the perfect person to help.

“For right now?” PC continued, “I’m just doing a favor for a friend. For anything that’s not public record or city-administered, though, you’re going to need an NYPD detective, a warrant, and a case file. You working with anyone local yet?”

Based on PC’s pivot to seriousness around child abuse, and Veronica’s promise to call in cavalry, it seemed wise to get an NYPD contact on the ground to allay PC’s suspicion. If nothing else, it would also make Veronica’s dad happy to know she had support from local PD, even if that hadn’t always worked out so well in the past.

“Not yet,” replied Veronica. “Think you can hook me up with someone?”

“Hmm..,” Paul thought, “that area is in the 84th. If you want to be secretive, I’d suggest Mike Vulcan, property crimes. He gets bored with his division and has a bit of a chip on his shoulder that homicide has a tenth the work and twice the resources - if you give him something interesting to do he’ll probably be happy to help - that’s how I met him. And of course, if whatever supersecretive not-a-runaway-minor, thing you’re doing happens to be connected to money somehow, Mike has an excuse to be involved. I’ll shoot you his number; the videos and MetroCard info I’ll upload to a secure cloud for you. You and Mac only, please, and I _will_ know if you share that around.”

“Thanks, PC, you’re one of the good ones.”

“Yeah, ok. Hey, as Mac’s boss, you think you could give her some time off sometime soon, or send her on assignment to New York?”

Veronica held back a laugh - it seemed PC was really smitten by her friend. As well he should be - Mac was awesome. Veronica answered with a straight face, “I’ll talk to Mac about it, but if she wants to come out for a few days, I won’t stand in the way of it. Thanks again.”

As Veronica hung up the phone she felt a little bad pimping out her friend for help with a case, but only a little. Hacker-with-integrity Paul Chan seemed a much better catch than Vincent “Butters” Clemmons, the last time Veronica had used Mac as bait for a case back in high school. PC seemed more law-and-order than Mac, who (like Veronica) had a definite rebellious streak, but Veronica hoped that whatever they were doing was making them happy.

An email from Captain Chan popped up almost immediately, addressed to both her and Mac with Lilly’s MetroCard activity - nothing since yesterday morning. A second email had links to a cloud server. Immediately after, a final email to just Veronica had a password - Mac’s friend worked fast. Veronica thought about everything they were doing and decided that, despite PC’s warnings, she would share the password - there was too much to do and not enough time, she needed more eyes. As long as Veronica didn’t use it herself, there would still only be two distinct logins.

“Hello, Duncan?” Veronica asked after calling him from the burner phone. “What are you doing right now?”

Duncan’s voice on the other end of the phone still held the strained quality that the worried father had exhibited on the ride from the airport. “Right now? Napping. Badly. I figured I should try to sleep to make up for last night, since there’s nothing I can do that I haven’t given you, but I’m mostly just sitting here worrying.”

“Perfect,” Veronica said, “here, I’ve got something for you to do, help out. I’ll send you some NYPD safety videos. Check out the ones for Cheezburger Cafe on Court and Atlantic - our guy sent the note to your dad from there at 6:21 pm. See if you can find someone who went in and out quickly around that time. Try to follow where he came from and where he went on the videos, any stops he made. Some more stuff might come up later, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Veronica.” Duncan answered, with a bit of relief. “Sitting, waiting, that’s the worst part. I just want to do something, you know?” Yes, Veronica knew that feeling well. She was glad to give Duncan something useful. Frankly, she’d rather have Mac look at the videos - she was better at it. But, Duncan couldn’t put together the Neptuner-in-New York list, while Mac could. Plus, Duncan knew when and where to look, no doubt would recognize his daughter, and may even recognize the kidnapper, so it would have to work in the time they had.

Lilly’s MetroCard hadn’t been used since yesterday morning. The lack of MetroCard usage didn’t mean much, unfortunately - whoever grabbed her could have either used a car or, if Lilly knew the kidnapper, she may have gone with them willingly and the kidnapper double-swiped their own card. Without a swipe to help the where and when, Mac and Veronica would have to go through the videos to find out. A quick call to Mac let her know Duncan had joined Team Mars. Teamwork makes the dream work.

Veronica went back to flipping through the Quaker Academy “get to know you” book, looking to finish up quickly and get to the school while it was still in session. The book was everything you’d expect from a high-end private school, known as the go-to destination for the progeny of millionaires and movie stars. The glossy pages gave off a glittery sheen, much as the teachers’ stellar credentials. Nearly all the teachers had at least one master’s degree, most listed academic specialties and publications, fluent languages, computer programming ability and various acronym-based certifications that were alien to Veronica, but certainly sounded impressive. Veronica noted Lilly’s teachers, particularly Mrs. Rutledge, Lilly’s English teacher and the class she had last in the day.

Veronica was flipping through the rest of the book for the sake of completeness when, as she was flipping towards the end, a teacher’s face stood out. The biography next to it mentioned only a name and education, a bachelor’s and master’s. This didn’t say much, but Veronica recognized the smiling face of the light-skinned black woman just past 30, her curly hair now shoulder-length. Though the woman was a friend, Veronica didn’t believe in innocent coincidences, and her presence at Lilly’s school raised her suspicions. Veronica picked up her phone again and dialed. After a few rings, she was shunted over to voicemail.  
“Hello? It’s me, Veronica. Veronica Mars,” she clarified. It had been a while since they last talked, and there was no guarantee that Veronica would be recognized just by her voice and name. “I’m guessing you’re still teaching a class. I’m in New York for a bit working a case and could use your help, a bit urgently. Can we meet after you’re done with work? Give me a call when you get this.”

Veronica hit the ‘end call’ button and looked at the avatar that remained after the call disconnected. It was a picture of the smiling woman wearing a blue designer sweater, along with a coltish 13-year-old boy flashing a gaminelike grin over a little league uniform. The picture, a year old at this point, was from last year’s Christmas card, and hung under the stark letters of the woman’s name, Jackie Cook.


	10. A Beginning

Veronica strode into the august entryway of the Quaker Academy of Brooklyn shortly before 2 pm, feeling like every minute that ticked by she was failing little Lilly Welles. Lilly had been gone for almost a full day, and Veronica was barely getting started on the search - the pressure of passing time built up and squeezed at Veronica’s heart. She didn’t know whether she should hope that Clarence Wiedman was doing better, since he might save the girl only to keep her from Duncan. Pushing thoughts of her competition out of her head, Veronica resolved to just do the best she could, as quickly as she could. Veronica had briefly interviewed the groundskeepers on the way in, but they hadn’t seen anything yesterday afternoon. After entering the large doorway, Veronica began walking rapidly toward the door marked “main office.”

The school itself was majestic, looking more like a grand medieval edifice than an institution built for learning. The ancient brick exterior spoke to a building at least a century old, despite its pristine upkeep. The prestigious school enjoyed enormously high vaulted ceilings, interspersed with occasional brick archways between. The classroom interiors that Veronica saw as she passed, however, looked more like Veronica’s Columbia law school lecture centers, with built in seating complete with power outlets on the long hard plastic composite tables used as desks. The bright, clean and airy interior was at odds the garbage-strewn streets and rat-infested dark subway tunnels that Veronica had taken to get there. The cavernous school lacked regular video cameras or any metal detectors, which probably made a heartening pedagogical sanctuary, but was not very helpful for a PI looking for clues about a missing girl. At least the front door had had a camera, and (of course) it was top of the line.

Walking in to the main office, Veronica was greeted by a woman behind a large wooden partition that appeared to have work space on the opposite side. The woman looked to be in her mid-forties, overweight but unselfconscious about it, with wavy hair that mostly extended to the nape of her neck dyed a brilliant, unnatural crimson. She wore what appeared to be discount store slacks and blouse, comfortable and able to fit in with the tony surroundings without costing a lot. Of course, the rich needed to have hired help do the actual work. There were smile lines abundant on her face, and she seemed genuinely happy to be behind the desk, even though she didn’t have a chair. The nameplate in front of her read “Front Desk” in big brass letters, with a little slot underneath for the receptionist to slide a nameplate with her name on it, currently occupied by a smaller black-and-white plastic nameplate bearing the name “Effie.” Other people further into the school administration area sat at desks in smaller offices or walked about holding papers. Veronica went straight to the woman she presumed to be Effie to introduce herself and get help.  
“Good afternoon, my name is Veronica Mars. I’m a security consultant for the Welles family. I was told that you would be expecting me and that you could help me.” Veronica said, flashing her PI license. It was ironic that, given the large quantity of fake IDs Veronica habitually carried, in this case the most useful ID turned out to be genuine. Duncan had said that he had called the school to let them know that Lilly wasn’t coming, so Veronica had to tread a thin line between getting useful information about the missing girl and not giving away the fact that Lilly was missing.

“Of course, of course. Mr. Welles said to expect you. We’re surprised that he pulled Lilly from school, but we are fully committed to keeping our students’ safety paramount. May I ask why you’ve been brought in?”

Veronica thought quickly and extemporaneously fabricated a story, “there’s been a credible threat against the Welles family. Some of the work that Mr. Welles does can be of a sensitive nature and can be contrary to the interests of certain ruthless people - we think Lilly might be a target. We’re taking every precaution, and I’ve been asked to perform a thorough risk analysis. Once I’ve finished my work I’m sure her routine will return to normal. I sincerely hope she’ll be back here soon.” It was always good to mix in the truth as much as possible when inventing a story, and Veronica’s tale was pretty close to actual events - the last part in particular rang true. Veronica wanted Lilly back, safe in school, quickly.  
Effie seemed satisfied with Veronica’s story. “I totally understand. I just hope that she isn’t away for too long - the coursework here is incredibly rigorous and it can be impossible to recover if you fall behind. The students take their studies very seriously, and it’s our strong preference not to interfere with their normal routine unless absolutely necessary.” Veronica’s cover story must not be a unique one, Effie sounded frustrated at entitled parents frequently pulling their kids from school. If anything, she sounded sympathetic that it was due to a protective parent, and not just a ski trip to Aspen.

“So what can I do for you?” Effie asked  
“Well, the most important people are the ones who work here at the school. I have a packet listing the teachers, and I’d like to talk to Lilly’s teachers in a bit, but could you get me a list of all the people who work here? Not just teachers, but administrators like yourself, janitorial staff, and bus drivers.”  
Effie thought for a moment before responding, “Well, we don’t really keep a list like that handy. I think the best I can do is ask payroll for a list of all the employees, but that won’t have the independent contractors, like the bus drivers. I’ll get you the information for the bus company and you can get the driver information from them.”  
Veronica wanted to be thorough, if Effie said that the list was incomplete and left off independent contractors, that was a loose thread in the investigation that could potentially be important. Veronica made it her business to pull on the loose threads and see what unraveled - a lot of the time it was nothing. A lot of waiting in empty parking lots outside office buildings. Sometimes, though, it made all the difference.  
“What about these independent contractors you mentioned? Any way to get more information on them? I want to clear everyone who enters the building.”

The affable Effie seemed a bit put out by that request, but if Veronica didn’t push, she’d never find out what she needed to know. 

“Miss Mars, this is a school, not a prison. Anybody can come in the front door, and it’s not like we have police checking the visitors. As for the independent contractors, there’s a company we hire them through - we have our own IT guy, so it’s generally guest lecturers and teachers that split their time with other schools. I’ll get you the contact info for that company, too. Fair warning - their front office guy is a mess and we always get their bills late. They go by the name ‘Sweet Smell of Success, Inc.’, which is a little pretentious even for us.” Effie complained, indicating the palatial surroundings. “I always just call them SoS, like they’re a sinking ship.”

Veronica had long ago learned that, when it came to being a detective and getting information, getting people to like and trust her paid off. This was an area where she had a distinct advantage over her father - people seemed more comfortable around diminutive friendly blondes than bald former cops, and Veronica used it to her advantage. The behind-the-desk gatekeepers were a wealth of information, be they office managers or hotel front desk staff. Getting on the good side of people like Effie was a direct line to what Veronica needed, and Effie had given her a classic opening - complaining about the job. Even ostensibly happy people like Effie had something to gripe about, and Veronica had found it.

“God, they sound terrible. I appreciate the head’s up, SoS there totally sounds like my last client. Complete scatterbrain - pays me three months late when he remembers at all, and takes up way more of my time than he should asking for paperwork I already sent him twice. But, I’m stuck dealing with him, y’know.”

Effie let out an exasperated sigh of agreement, and lost a bit of the hard edge she had put on after Veronica asked about the contractors.

“Exactly!” Effie exclaimed. “I have 400 school kids here, I don’t need a grownup who needs his hand held too!”

Veronica continued to try to put Effie at ease. She needed copies of the security footage from yesterday, which didn’t exactly fit with her cover story, and she could use some goodwill in bending the rules a bit. 

“Let me guess,” Veronica went on, “at least once the guy at SoS just flat out asked you to do his job for him, and then tried to explain how it would save you time?”

“Yes!” Effie practically shouted. “The guy was like, ‘it’s almost always the same anyway, can you just pay us and I’ll send the documentation next month?’”

“Wow, just wow.” Veronica commiserated, leading up to the big ask - video tapes. “Well, I’ll deal with them directly for what I need. Us grown-ups have to stick together, and you have enough on your plate.”

Veronica paused briefly as if a new idea were just occurring to her, but she was taking the opportunity to read Effie’s face and see how susceptible she’d be to giving tapes to her new BFF. Effie was still smiling broadly - bigger than when Veronica had first walked in. She seemed inclined to help Veronica beyond the bare minimum for her job, but Veronica judged she would need a hook to seal the deal.

“You know...my firm does a school safety certification. It sounds very impressive to the parents, but it’s actually very simple and noninvasive - checking exits, security cameras, staff background. It got to be good business after we got the _Vanity Fair_ write up. I’m doing, like, 90% of the work for the Welles already, I could throw in the certification to you guys for free. Just, uhh, don’t tell my partner. He gets prickly about the freebies. I’d just need the past day’s security footage, maybe a bit of follow-up.”

Effie seemed immediately interested - it was hard to turn down “impressive” and “free.” It sounded so good, Veronica wondered if school certifications were something Mars Investigations should actually do.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! Yes, I’ll be sure to have our IT guy put yesterday’s camera recordings together for you.”

Looking at the clock behind Veronica, Effie exclaimed, “Oh, look at the time! It just flies right by, classes are almost over. You said you wanted to talk to the teachers too?”

“Yes,” Veronica responded. “If possible, I’d like to start with Mrs. Rutledge, Lilly’s English teacher. I believe Lilly’s normal class would be meeting right now, in fact.”

“Yes, of course. She’s up on the third floor -I’ll show you to her classroom and then get those materials together for you.” Effie said brightly, stepping out from behind the desk and leading the way towards a staircase, past the main entrance.

As Effie lead Veronica down the airy hallway, a familiar figure walked through the front door of the school and entered the hallway right in front of them. A light-skinned black man, about 6'4", he was saved from being called lanky by the powerful athleticism he possessed. He kept his hair buzzed down, likely a remnant from his military days, made no less imposing by the black pants and black leather jacket that would let him blend in either the streets of New York City or the shadows of a lonely back alley. The man followed Veronica's progress towards him with piercing eyes, moving to intercept her. It was Veronica’s competition in the race to save Lilly Welles, the head of security at Kane Software, Clarence Wiedman.


	11. An Adversary

Veronica Mars was on a collision course with Clarence Wiedman, walking down the imposing brick hallways of the Quaker Academy of Brooklyn. Effie, the helpful academy receptionist leading Veronica, saw Clarence’s formidable figure, but was unaware of its significance. Now, Veronica not only needed to continue inventing a plausible cover story to get information on the disappearance of Lilly Welles, she needed to stop her ostensible opponent in the search from blowing her cover. 

If Wiedman was here, it was because he knew that Lilly Welles had disappeared from here. Even if he had come here and didn’t know her name yet, which seemed unlikely, he was a short step from finding out. Having Wiedman crash around with a picture of Lilly asking for a name would only ruin Veronica’s good relationship with the school; if he already knew Lilly’s story then he still might kill tripping over Veronica. Veronica had to operate assuming that Wiedman knew Duncan’s cover at this point. While she could let Wiedman get the same information she had - Duncan had intimated that he would do the same - Veronica then had to outthink and outpace the former army intelligence officer. If, before, she had to walk a tight line between finding Lilly and giving away the game, now she had to take that line and squeeze it through the eye of a needle.

Before Wiedman could say anything to trip up Veronica or confuse Effie, Veronica quick-stepped past her guide and greeted Clarence warmly.

“CW!” She called. To her knowledge, only Duncan used that particular nickname, though she didn’t know him well and it could be a common usage. Regardless, it was far more familiar than Veronica had ever been with Wiedman in the past. Hopefully it signaled that she was here at Duncan’s behest, and willing to work with him to a limited degree. For the greater good. Thinking quickly, Veronica bulled ahead.

“Effie, let me introduce you to Clarence Wiedman, that partner I mentioned. Clarence, Effie here was just leading us to Mrs. Rutledge’s class - Lilly’s English teacher. Effie - do you think you could actually make two sets of that packet, CW here could probably use his own copy, now that I think of it.” To show her sincerity, Veronica flashed a smile and handed Effie two blank flash drives from her bag.

Wiedman looked at Veronica appraisingly, but kept his mouth shut. It looked like some combination of the familiar greeting and the promise of cooperation had convinced him to play ball. Veronica was just glad she had gotten to the school first - she doubted Wiedman would have been as accommodating if their roles had been reversed.

“Yes, I can make two copies as easily as one. But we should hurry if we want to catch Mrs. Rutledge before the closing bell.” Effie said helpfully. She seemed unaware of the byplay between Veronica and Wiedman, and was willing to include the new man in their third-floor travel plans.

Despite rushing, the group didn’t make it in time - Veronica and crew had plodded up the ridiculous number of stairs for the high-ceilinged first floor and were halfway up from the second floor when a loud school bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. Veronica, Clarence and Effie managed to push their tired legs up and out of the stairs on the third floor just as the hallways burst full of anxious teenagers eager to get out of school and on with their day. Veronica then had to fight her way upstream against the tide of adolescents towards Mrs. Rutledge’s door. In the commotion, she stuck close to Wiedman, who split the current of people like a rock in a river, backpacked teens flowing around his tall, muscular figure. Veronica was able to pull on his black leather jacket and catch his attention, getting him to bend down enough so he could hear her.

“I don’t think this particular questioning requires dangling someone out of a window, how about I take lead on this?” Veronica asked. Although she and Wiedman had a largely adversarial relationship - he had once chased away Veronica’s mother by taking threatening photographs of Veronica - they had effectively worked together in the past. Naturally, Wiedman had been bad cop, to Veronica’s good cop. Wiedman had done a very believable _LA Confidential_ impression, holding a guy out of a window and threatening to drop him as an interrogation technique. With Mrs. Rutledge, a lighter touch seemed called for. Wiedman seemed amenable. 

“Okay,” Wiedman replied in his distinctive basso. Wiedman's precise diction and hint of a Harvard accent belied the savagery Veronica knew him capable of.

Effie leading the way, Veronica and Wiedman passed through the entryway to Mrs. Rutledge’s classroom. The room was relatively small, with just a single row of desks and the ceilings on the third floor a more normal height than the monstrous first floor. The seats were set in a semicircle facing the front of the room, equally capable of viewing a lecture or having cross-room discussions. The walls were covered in classic book covers, old friends of Veronica’s from high school: The Scarlet Letter, The Bell Jar, Reviving Ophelia, The Big Sleep, and Catcher in the Rye.

Mrs. Rutledge herself was just packing up as Veronica strode into the room, Wiedman shadowing behind her. Mrs. Rutledge looked to be in her mid-30’s and energetic, her wavy dark hair reaching just past should length, piling over a brightly colored silk scarf around her neck. The jewel-toned blue dress she wore didn’t look particularly expensive, but was tasteful and looked comfortable for a long day of teaching. Like most practically-minded women who stand for long periods, Mrs. Rutledge wore sensible flats, which actually showed far less wear than the shoes Veronica had typically worn out in New York. Mrs. Rutledge was putting an iPad and papers in a large bag, and putting a bright orange Sunkist soda can into a nearby recycling bin.

Effie politely tried to get Mrs. Rutledge’s attention. “Hello, Regan? These people are here to discuss Lilly Welles, if you have a moment.”

“I’d be happy to talk about Lilly. How I can help you?” Mrs. Rutledge asked, looking at Veronica and Wiedman.

Veronica put on a small professional smile and walked up close to the genial English teacher. She turned quickly to Wiedman and made a subtle gesture to him, where Regan wouldn’t see, that he should stay back. Two-on-one interrogation, including a large scary man looming over the ladies, was not conducive to getting information from the free-spirited bookworm teaching Lilly English.

Veronica smiled in response and introduced herself. “My name is Veronica Mars. My associate, Clarence, will be observing if that’s ok. Do you prefer Mrs. Rutledge or Regan?” When in doubt, Veronica found it best to ask how people wanted to be addressed- it made them feel important and calling them by their chosen name tended to put them at greater ease.

“Please, call me Regan. I encourage people to be informal and have open dialogue, Mrs. Rutledge just sounds too stuffy.”

“How is Lilly getting on in your class, Regan?” Veronica wanted to establish a good baseline rapport with the teacher before immediately jumping to questions about the last time she had been seen. Veronica generally took an organic approach to questioning, and asking open ended questions and seeing where that lead both increased the questionee’s trust in Veronica, and gave her a better picture of what was going on. Veronica had frequently found that people forgot details when answering direct questions that they later remembered when going over the full context. People don’t remember facts - they remember stories. Right now, Veronica wanted Regan Rutledge’s story.

“Lilly Welles? God, I wish I had 20 of her in every class. She loves discussing the books, even though they are obviously things she’s already read. I blame her mother, of course, but Lilly once joked that her dad is a very well-paid professional writer too, assuming corporate contracts count as ‘writing.’

“Lilly can grow up to do anything. I really mean that. I know we say that a lot about the kids who come here, and all the kids have a certain amount of privilege just getting in the door, but Lilly is special. I know her passion now is science, but she’s a real star here. Engaged, interested, incisive, curious. I get a lot of rich-but-well-tutored students. I get a few smart-but-lazy students. Lilly is smart but that doesn’t stop her from working hard - she attacks the problems in front of her and isn’t afraid to stand up for herself.”  
Veronica took in Regan’s unrestrained lionization of Lilly Welles. First, Veronica couldn’t help but like the girl, and feel a bit of pride. Clearly something had been going right in Lilly’s life. If not for Duncan and Veronica’s intervention, Lilly would have grown up as Faith Manning and had a very different childhood. When Veronica compared Regan Rutledge’s approbation to what could have happened in the Manning family, how Grace Manning had ended up - a recovering prostitute with at least one traumatic experience - it made Veronica feel a bit justified in helping Duncan take Lilly all those years ago. 

More useful for the task at hand, Lilly sounded like a fighter. Strong, independent, not backing down. That greatly reduced the likelihood that she was taken by a stranger without notice - if Lilly had fought off an attacker, shouted, it would have drawn attention. Lilly wouldn’t have just vanished. She was most likely grabbed by someone she knew. So, Veronica had to find someone that Lilly knew with ties to Neptune, or someone with ties to Neptune that would have reason to know a 12-year-old Lilly.  
Veronica smiled openly and told Regan with genuine affection, “that’s wonderful to hear. Lilly does sound exceptional. How is she doing personally? I heard her stepmother died last year.”

Regan adjusted her silk scarf a bit, clearly ill at ease with the direction of the conversation. For someone who taught tragic tales for a living, Regan Rutledge seemed uncomfortable with talking about real problems.

“Yes, Lilly and Kathryn were really close from what I could tell. My understanding is that, at one point, Lilly and Kathryn were here while Lilly’s mom was back at school, so in a lot of ways Kathryn was Lilly’s mother. Lilly’s been sad, of course, and she’s expressing it beautifully in her writing, but doesn’t seem to have let it stop her from doing anything. Still having two parents at home probably helps, as well as her friends.” Regan opined.

Shifting topic to something more immediately relevant, and which would make Regan more comfortable, Veronica asked, “how about her friends? How has she been with them? Any recent changes?”

“Lilly seems to get along with everyone. We’re not really cliquish here,” Regan started. Well, that was certainly different from Veronica’s experience, then.

“She does seem to have gravitated towards the more academic kids, which is not surprising. She and Maggie Gunderson seem particularly close - they usually leave class together.” Veronica recognized the name Margaret Gunderson as one of the girls in Lilly’s dance group.

“How about yesterday? Anything unusual happen?” Veronica questioned.

“Hmm, yesterday at the end of class, I think Lilly talked to Maggie, but then ran ahead without her. But you’ve seen how it is at the end of the day - once they’re out the classroom door it’s a madhouse.”

“Thank you Regan. Is there anything else you think we should know?” Veronica always liked to ask an open ended question at the end to see if she missed something. Nearly always, people just said no, but the few times someone remembered something, it was vital.

“No, I think that’s it. Hope it was helpful.”

...

Veronica walked out of the Quaker Academy of Brooklyn with Clarence Wiedman, each holding flash drives with Academy employee names, contact information for the bus company and SoS. They had both been emailed links to access the Academy security videos from yesterday, which Duncan was set to working on. 

Duncan had found the ransomer in the NYPD videos while Veronica had been interviewing Regan Rutledge. There was a lot of foot traffic in and out, but he was pretty sure it was a white man, a bit above average height, dark clothes, face obscured by a Yankees hat. Damn Yankees. Duncan had sent a screenshot.

The ransomer had come down Atlantic Avenue, from the west and had returned the same way, no stops - they’d have to pick up the trail from there. Apparently the e-mailer had entered a pretty big blindspot. Veronica would have to go to the stores and see if she could get anything useful from the ground. Or better yet, outsource it to Mike Vulcan of the NYPD if she could. Save time, and store owners would give videos to cops with fewer questions.

Mac still had to finish the list of Neptuners in New York, but first was putting in calls to the bus company and SoS - those needed to be done before they closed for the day. After that, and then finalizing the list, Mac would start going through the background checks and, time permitting, NYPD videos. It was a good thing she had stocked up on caffeine.

Finally, Veronica had gotten a voicemail from Jackie Cook, saying she’d be happy to meet that afternoon. She was going to walk Elston, her son, to baseball practice and then head home unless she heard otherwise from Veronica. Veronica would have rather met with Jackie while they were both at school, but there was just too much to do and no time to do it. Interviewing Maggie Gunderson, the last person to talk to Lilly, had to take precedence. Besides, Jackie’s simple responsiveness automatically knocked her far down the list of likely kidnappers - people who commit crimes usually don’t go out of their way to make time to meet with PIs when they don’t have to. It was one of the reasons Veronica had to sneak into tight places so often - rarely does the bad guy invite you in the front door. Fortunately, Jackie had worked at a diner near the Cheezburger Cafe, and it would be a good place to meet. Veronica shot a bullet of a text to her waitress-cum-teacher friend that simply said, “Diner, 5 pm?”, and then raced to catch up with Clarence Wiedman, who had started walking away after checking his own phone. Gallingly, he had been a quicker draw than Veronica out of the electronic holster.

“Wiedman!” She called, “Do you even know where we’re going next?”

Where he had looked at her appraisingly when they first ran into each other, his look now clearly indicated that he didn’t think she measured up, and needed to go away before she screwed up his investigation. Although Veronica felt a healthy dose of respect, and maybe a bit of carefully controlled fear, of the former soldier, she similarly wanted him as far away from her case as possible. Right now, though, they were clearly both going to Maggie Gunderson, and Veronica would rather keep Wiedman in sight and as under control as possible.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Clarence rumbled. “I don’t work with you, I definitely don’t work for you, and I don’t even work for the same people you do. I have to get back to work, and you have to get back to minding your own business.”

“Why does everyone tell me to mind my own business like they think that’s going to work?” Veronica asked dauntlessly. “Look, you don’t want to read me in because Jake Kane is feeling lonely and wants to separate a daughter from the only family she’s ever known? That’s your business. Saving Lilly Welles? That _is_ my business. Right now? You’re wasting time. Time Lilly might get hurt. Time she might get raped. Time she might get killed. Maggie Gunderson is at the Side Street Dance Studio, and it’s _this_ way!”

Veronica stormed away at the quick walk that New Yorkers in a hurry adopted, that was just this side of socially acceptable, and hurried in the direction of the dance studio. Clarence Wiedman, his long legs loping along at a ground-eating pace, struggled to keep up with the indomitable Veronica Mars.


	12. A Dancer

Veronica and Clarence Wiedman plodded up the cracked and slanted staircase of the squat four-story building that housed the Side Street Dance Studio. Half the stairs were shod with dully menacing worn metal guards on the front to prevent erosion, the other half lay naked and beaten by years of traffic. The two investigators kept a strained silence between them, an almost-physical partition separating the rival inspectors and keeping them from colliding as they trudged up the broken stairwell.

The dance studio occupied the top floor of an old brick-faced building halfway between Lilly’s school and the old Brooklyn Navy Yard. The neighborhood was an odd mix of dilapidated buildings, overpriced artist collectives escaping from the even-more overpriced DUMBO rental prices, retrofitted prewar buildings turned into tech startup space, and shiny new residential condo buildings similar to Duncan’s, if much shorter. Side Street Dance Studio took up the entire fourth floor of what was arguably the worst building in the area, which was unsurprising - rent was expensive and had driven space-intensive businesses like dance halls, bowling alleys, and gun ranges practically off the map in New York. Side Street was perched precariously atop the building, which appeared distinctly askew when viewed from across the street. The listing building seemed less than ideal for gracefully moving across the floor, but Side Street was likely to cling to its eyrie ‘til it died.

At the top of the stairs, Veronica peered through the glass window taking up the top half of the brass-knobbed wooden door. The window had “Side Street Dance Studio” emblazoned on it, with an image of female dancer performing a grand jete over a paved road, with an elevated train overhead. Despite the dilapidated state of the building’s exterior and stairs, the lettering on the door was clean and crisp, the ornate door handle reflected the light with its high polish, and the inside of the studio looked pristine. The entire back wall of the studio were windows, large theater-type curtains pulled back to show the Manhattan skyline in the distance. The entire left-hand wall of the studio was a mirror, permitting the dancers to see the entire troupe and giving the space a bright, airy feeling - the light reflected off both the mirror wall and the polished hardwood floor nearly blinding Veronica standing on the other side of the door in the darker hallway. She attempted to ignore the dark harbinger standing over her shoulder, also gazing through the window.

Veronica seemed to have good timing, the teacher, a graceful woman in a leotard with her dark hair pulled back in a bun, was talking to the girls in front of her and making hand movements. Even if it had been bad timing, Veronica didn’t have the time or luxury of observing unnecessary social niceties. Opening the door boldly and then knocking her knuckle on the inside of the window for maximum noise, Veronica called for the class’ attention.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. Could you send Maggie out for a moment? I promise we’ll be quick.” Well, it might not be quick, but saying so would make the teacher much more likely to agree quickly and get the annoying outsiders to stop interrupting the class.

The teacher agreed, waving one of the girls away with impatient shooing hand gestures. A mousy-haired 12-year-old girl with a bob cut and white leotard scurried towards Veronica and Wiedman at the door, walking briskly on bare feet.

“Hello?” Maggie Gunderson asked nervously. She looked like nothing so much as a frightened dear, ready to bolt back to herd.

Veronica indicated that Maggie should join her and Wiedman outside the door and tried to use a quiet, calming voice. “My name is Veronica, I’m working for Lilly’s parents. Lilly gave us quite a scare yesterday and I was hoping you could help us without interrupting the class.” Veronica looked up at the brusque teacher, who could clearly hear what Veronica said across the echoey chamber, despite the low tones. 

“Yeah, ok.” Maggie whispered, looking down at her bare feet. Despite her evident nerves, she followed Veronica out of the room as she closed the door.

Once they were in the hallway, Maggie surprised Veronica by taking the initiative.

“Is Lilly ok?” Maggie asked.

Veronica decided to stick with the same cover story that she had given Effie at the school, it was about the best she could come up with and if it didn’t match what Maggie knew, then she’d have to make something up on the fly. Fortunately, Wiedman hung back, perhaps realizing that black-leather-clad special ops soldier vs scared-twelve-year-old-girl was not the best way to get answers.

“Yes, Lilly is fine. She gave her parents quite the scare yesterday, but it turned out she had gone home and been sleeping in her mom’s guestroom. It did wake everyone up a bit, though. Mr. Welles’ work makes security a real concern. Lilly’s mom and dad have asked me and Clarence there to do a thorough security check. We’ve asked Lilly to stay home a few days until we’ve completed our analysis. That said, we did want to talk to you about what happened yesterday, make sure we plan for the future.”

“Yeah... yeah, sure.” The mousy-haired girl trembled. Maggie seemed just as skittish as when they had started, hardly reassured about her friend’s safety. The barefoot girl quietly wailed out in one seemingly endless breath, “I just thought this was all my fault. That something bad happened to Lilly because of me! We were supposed to all come here together, and I abandoned her. And her dad came asking where she was, and I didn’t know anything, and everyone was so scared and I thought maybe she fell down somewhere or something and it was because she was alone so no one would be there to get help, and she didn’t answer any of my calls or texts, and then she wasn’t in school today either, and it was my fault!”

At the end of Maggie’s gasping confessional, she sucked in a deep breath of air and looked much relieved, though still shaken and trembling. Veronica tried to comfort Maggie as much as she could while Maggie got her breath. Veronica could understand how it felt to blame yourself when something bad happened to your friend- she had done the same with Lilly Kane. With Meg Manning. With Parker Lee. There was no worse feeling than that - it was one of the reasons Veronica would do everything she could to help Lilly Welles.

After Maggie had calmed down a bit, Veronica asked, “Can you tell me what happened yesterday?”

“Well,” Maggie started, taking a big gulping breath to prepare to speak, “at the end of English class, me and Maggie usually leave together. To come here. But yesterday she ran up to me and said...” At this Maggie looked awkwardly at Wiedman, who had been keeping a respectful distance while still being close enough to hear everything. Maggie’s war against her internal discomfort shown on her face, before she found the fortitude to answer.

“Lilly said she was having female problems. They were ... unexpected. It was kind of embarrassing. She ran ahead to go to the bathroom before the mass exodus at the end of the day. She said not to wait up - when she didn’t come to dance class I figured she had gone home for fresh clothes, and then just didn’t bother coming to class - she’d have missed most of class anyway. Then her parents came down and everyone just freaked out.”

God, Veronica did not miss puberty. It was hard to remember the problems that could destroy your whole world back then - Lilly must have been mortified. It made sense she had been on her own - after going to the bathroom she likely would have wanted to go straight home, as Maggie thought. Somewhere between the bathroom and home Lilly had been taken. Hopefully Mac caught Lilly exiting the school on video and they could pick up the trail from there. The best leads were going to be from school to the subway, maybe school walking home, and any drug stores on the way. Lilly hadn’t called or texted anyone about the change in plans, possibly too ashamed to tell her mother about what was happening.

“Thank you, Maggie.” Veronica said soothingly. “You shouldn’t feel bad about yesterday - you didn’t do anything wrong. I promise, we’ll finish up here as quickly as we can, and you should see Lilly again in a few days.”

Veronica looked up at the head of security at Kane Software and addressed him directly,

“We done?” Veronica asked Wiedman. It was meant to cover both the questioning of Maggie Gunderson, and the uneasy armistice between the two detectives. They both knew where the trail ended, Veronica could pick up where it left and not have to worry about Wiedman blowing her cover with the school or Lilly’s friends. Now, she just had to work smarter and faster than Wiedman.

“Yeah,” Wiedman responded, with a note of finality. “We’re done.”


	13. A New Friend

Veronica whizzed down the battered Brooklyn streets in the back of a green taxi.  She had managed to upstream Wiedman and grab the taxi before he could - three years of New York living had given Veronica better cab-stealing instincts than the former intelligence officer.  Duncan was paying for expenses and Veronica didn’t have time to waste, even for a relatively short walk to the 84th precinct.  Now that she wasn’t retracing Lilly’s steps, and didn’t have to note the surroundings as much, a cab made more sense.

Side Street had mostly been a dead end.  Veronica called Mac to check in - things were too hectic and even between the two of them, plus Duncan, Team Mars could barely keep up with the breakneck pace.  But they needed to keep working the case from all three ends - following Lilly’s trail, following the ransomer’s trail, and identifying potential suspects - where one failed the others might succeed.

“Mac attack!  I’m back.  You hack, I’ll yackety-yak, just don’t give me any flak, Jack.” Veronica greeted her friendly neighborhood tech support.

“Cut me some slack!”  Mac cried.

“What the frak!  Are you talkin’ smack?”  Veronica frowned in mock outrage, though Mac wouldn’t be able to see it over the phone.

 Mac pondered a moment before offering, “Nice rack?”

“Good comeback.”  Veronica said appreciatively.  “Not really on topic, but so, so true. So, whatcha got for me?”

“Well, good news, Duncan saw Lilly leave the Academy on the front door video at 2:56 - fifteen minutes after everyone else, and after the buses are supposed to go too.  Bad news, she was by herself, still wearing the backpack.  Worse news, we don’t know which way she went, the school doesn’t have external cameras other than covering the doors, and that mammoth building they call a school makes for some big blind spots.  We have no way of knowing what went on around that school.”

“Someone’s going to have to work a bit harder to get the Mars school safety certification.”  Veronica commented sardonically.

“What does that even mean?”  Mac asked, confused.

“I promised the front desk lady at Quaker Academy of Brooklyn that... oh never mind, it doesn’t matter.  Alright, so right next to the school is a kidnapper’s paradise, how about the bus company, SoS and Academy employee lists?”

“Bus company gave me a list already - apparently schools ask for them all the time. You’ll have a copy - I’ll start looking into backgrounds on them after I finish your frakking list of New Yorkers.  SoS kind of sucks, and I’m not sure the guy knew what I was asking for.  I’ll follow up with him again before 5 your time.  I’ve got Duncan going through tapes looking for the ransomer or for Lilly.  I don’t know if there’s anything there to find, but he doesn’t have anything else to do, and I have no time.”

“You’re doing great Mac.  I’ll try to pull in someone PC recommended to get a better video of the ransomer.  Where do we lose the trail?”

“Atlantic Ave, halfway between Court and Clinton.  It becomes residential, and then the highway.”  Mac reported.

“Thanks again Mac, and I’ll let you know if I get anything.”

...

Veronica walked up to the officer behind the tall wooden desk at the 84th precinct’s intake and asked for Mike Vulcan, property crimes.  She was waved in to the open floor plan and told to go to the back right corner.

Walking through the cavernous room, cluttered with desks, papers and a cacophony of ringing phones, Veronica found a desk bearing a nameplate “Det. Michael Vulcan.”  Behind the desk sat a fit, black man in his late 30's or early 40's, wearing a blue suit shirt and matching tie. His extremely dark face was clean shaven, and his hair was very close cut, though it appeared more stylish than Logan’s militaristic look. Definitely more Don Cheadle than Detective Sipowicz.  
“Excuse me, are you Detective Vulcan?  My name is Veronica Mars.  I’m a PI and Captain Chan suggested I come to you regarding a matter I’m working on.”

“PC!” Detective Vulcan exclaimed, jumping out of his chair and showing his full height – although he was only about 5’8 his energetic manner gave him a larger presence.  “How is that fucking guy?  Needs to get laid, but he’s one of only guys without a stick up his ass about departmental politics.”    
Detective Vulcan went on in what may have been a conspiratorial whisper but came out as more of a stage whisper - given the thunderous din of the 84th precinct probably nobody could overhear anyway.  “PC knows some serious shit.  He works with FBI, counterterrorism.  He got me tailing some Russians stealing boatloads of stuff last year.  Actual boats.  Biggest bust I’ve had.”  
“PC is good.  He hooked up with my friend in Vegas, so maybe he’s better than last time you talked to him.”  Veronica replied.  She didn’t think Mac would mind a little gloating on her behalf if it got Detective Vulcan on her good side.  
“That fucker goes to Vegas?  Huh.  Wouldn’t have thought him the type.”  Veronica agreed - if Mac hadn’t mentioned DEFCon, she never would have believed her friend to be the type to go to Vegas either.  
“So, Detective Vulcan - do you prefer Mike or Vulcan?”  Based on Mike’s expletive laden and enthusiastic greeting, she pegged him for the informal type, but it was good to ask.

“Mike’s fine.  Vulcan gets me too much shit around here.”  
"’Vulcan’ gets you shit?  What, like Leonard Nimoy?"  Veronica asked.

"More _Star Trek Voyager_ than Mr. Spock.”  Detective Vulcan replied.  “Between me and Detective Chekhov there, we have the _Star Trek_ front covered.”

Veronica looked at Detective Vulcan confused, not getting whatever reference Mike was alluding to.  Veronica was frequently nerd-adjacent, but wasn’t steeped in all the lore herself.  She looked at the other man Mike had indicated, a pale-skinned dark-haired man with prodigious wrinkles on his face.  Ironically, Veronica didn’t see his firearm, and the only visible shooter was a large red metal fire extinguisher on the wall near Detective Vulcan’s desk.

Mike waved a dark hand in the general direction of his face. “A black Vulcan,” he explained.  
Recognition lit up behind Veronica’s eyes, understanding what Mike had meant, and she responded wryly, "Hey, it worked in _Blazing Saddles_."  
That quip got a full-throated laugh from Mike.  Veronica got the sense he was a man of intense passions, quick to laugh, quick to anger, and she could see how bureaucracy would stifle him, as PC had suggested and his introduction confirmed.

“That was fucking funny!  I’m going to have to remember that one!”  Mike roared.  
Veronica wanted to cement a good relationship with him.  Veronica genuinely liked the guy - she could relate to being passionate, a seeker of justice, and not a fan of bureaucratic bullshit. Mike Vulcan had a fiery temperament.  The best way to firmly establish a good relationship with this guy seemed to be appealing to his earthy sense of humor, with maybe a bit of flattery.

“Thanks.  And here I thought the foul-mouthed NYPD Detective with a heart of gold was supposed to just be a cliché.”  Veronica tried.  If he was smart enough to finish the joke, he would probably appreciate the setup, and even if he didn’t, it would be just be taken a small compliment.

“Who the fuck says I have a heart of gold?”  Mike replied, smiling.  Veronica laughed heartily and appreciatively.  Detective Vulcan was on the ball, and seemed to appreciate swapping jokes with the California PI.  Smart, funny, cooperative, Veronica already liked the NYPD better than the Balboa County Sheriff’s office.

“Alright Mike, so I’ve got a client.  Can’t start a case file yet or make it public, you’ll understand why in a minute, but I have a bit of legwork that needs doing.  My client is being blackmailed by this guy,” Veronica said, showing the screenshot of the ransomer on her phone. 

“Our would-be Leonard Eels here sent an email from the Cheezburger Cafe at 6:21 yesterday, then walked west down Atlantic Ave, back the way he came.  The trail died there, so I need a better image or where he went next. My client keeps confidential information for  _their_  clients, but got their computer stolen last week.  My client assured me that whoever took the laptop shouldn’t be able to access any data, but the email yesterday included a screenshot with client confidential info.  If word gets out, my client is ruined almost as bad as if the extortionist leaks everything - thus, not public.  They brought in me, the  _private_  eye and, if you’re interested, a private you.”  
“So PI Mars, does that ‘private eye’ and ‘private you’ come with a private ‘o?’”  Mike asked, intrigued.  
Veronica couldn’t tell whether he was asking for an IOU or an orgasm.  The first was not a problem, the second was completely off the table, even for smart and good-looking Detective Vulcan here.  Veronica was not that kind of girl.  Plus, a jealous Logan killing an NYPD detective was the last thing she needed.

“One official Mars Investigations IOU.  I hear I have some pull with a Captain in the tech squad that might get you ahead of the jerks in homicide when appropriations time comes around.”

Mike raised his eyes at Veronica appreciatively - if he had been finagling for a tryst, he seemed plenty impressed with her counteroffer.  
“Sure, sounds interesting.  Count me in.   Department is always saying we should do more community outreach anyway, maybe this will count.”

“Hey, I’m taking a cab down that way right now.”  Veronica mentioned.  She would never cheat on Logan, but a little look-but-don’t-touch flirting with Detective Vulcan wouldn’t hurt.  Veronica gave him a frank look and said in a sultry voice,

“You want a ride?”


	14. An Old Friend

Brooklyn Dan’s diner was a neighborhood institution, a cozy throwback much-beloved by the natives known for good food, cheap prices, serving breakfast all day (as any reputable diner must) and a cash-only policy that only caught a few random tourists by surprise.  The linoleum counter ran from the door to the busy kitchen in back, red leather stools holding their ground in front of the counter at even intervals.  Most of the floor space was taken up by booths, the upholstery of which was in various states of cracking, but which were all clean and comfortable.  The speakers, which frequently played ‘50’s era rock or folk, were currently playing a relatively recent rock song - David Bowie’s “Heroes.” When Veronica walked in, she was greeted by a friendly 50-something African-American woman like she was being welcomed home.

“Veronica!  It’s good to see you!  Come in, come in.  It’s been too long, how have you been?  Not starving yourself, I hope?”  This last was said as she looked Veronica up and down.  Kim had always thought Veronica was too skinny in law school.

“It’s good to see you too, Kim.  I’m doing well, how about you?”  Although Veronica phrased it gently, this wasn’t an idle question.  Jackie’s mom had had a bad health scare a few years ago.

“Oh, I’m fine.  Don’t you worry about me.  Jackie’s over there in the back booth.”  Kim’s ‘fine’ was good to hear - if she had actually had a relapse she usually became much more terse and said she didn’t want to talk about it.  A career waitress, if Kim wasn’t talking or working, or both, that was when you worried.

Veronica walked past the booths, which were only partially filled at this in-between hour when sensible Midwesterners would sit for supper but New Yorkers were mostly still at work. Most people sat in pairs, though one antisocial soul was eating a burger and watching _Kiss Kiss Bang Bang_ on Go90 by himself – Veronica couldn’t seem to escape that movie. Veronica found Jackie Cook seated at a booth in the back of the diner, as Kim had said.  Jackie was nursing a fresh cup of coffee - not surprising as Kim didn’t usually let them sit empty - but since Veronica was on time it was probably Jackie’s first cup.

“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice, Jackie.  I’m working on something for a friend from law school, and I could use the inside scoop on Quaker Academy of Brooklyn.”

“Absolutely, Veronica.  I’m happy to help - how have you been?”

Veronica would have preferred a ‘how can I help?’ or ‘what do you need to know?’ But Veronica had barged in on her over-a-decade friend after not seeing her for four years - she shouldn’t be surprised Jackie cared about her well-being.  And Veronica did care about Jackie too - she was just focused on getting answers for Lilly.  Actually being a friend to Jackie was important too. And forcing the issue would be counterproductive anyway.

Veronica took a deep cleansing breath and let it out.  “I’m good.  I’m busy.  I’m still with Logan. And I’m starving - hey, can we get some food?”

Jackie waved to get her mom’s attention.  Kim didn’t bother bringing any menus or a notepad.

“Alright girls, whatcha want?”

“I’ll have a western omelet, peppers and onions, spicy.”  Jackie ordered.

“You even have to ask?”  Veronica asked incredulously.  “I flew three thousand miles to get here, I am not leaving without some blueberry pancakes!  My treat, by the way.”

Jackie jumped on Veronica’s offer to pay, “ah!  If it’s your treat, then I’ll add a vanilla milkshake to my order.”

“Milkshake with an omelet?  Aren’t you supposed to be a grownup now or something?”  Veronica asked.

“Hey, what’s the fun in being a grownup if you can’t decide when to have a milkshake for dinner?”  Jackie retorted.  Jackie always had an epicurean streak.  It had gotten her into trouble when she was younger - that was how she’d ended up with Elston - now it just came across as fun-loving.

“So how’s everything in Neptune?  It’s like you dropped off the face of the earth when you left New York.”

“Well, the high school reunion was exciting.  Even so, you didn’t miss much - most people are still jerks except Mac and Wallace, but that’s not news.”  Veronica disclosed.

“How is Wallace?”  Jackie asked, her voice a bit huskier than usual.  Veronica sometimes forgot that her friends had lives outside of her.  Mac went to Vegas, apparently, and Wallace and Jackie had their own star-crossed cross-country history.

“Wallace is good.  Still single.  Also a teacher, he coaches basketball at Neptune High.”  Veronica thought a bit before venturing more advice.  Contrary to popular opinion she didn’t always stick her nose where it didn’t belong.  Just most of the time.  Still, Jackie and Wallace were both good friends, who both seemed a little dissatisfied with the single life.  Veronica decided that nudging her friends towards happiness was worth being a little intrusive.

“You should call him.”  Veronica finally added.

“And say what?”  Jackie asked, a bit hurt and angry.  “I’m still here, and he’s still there.  I worked my ass off to get through college and grad school to provide a life for my son. I work at arguably the best school in the country and, by the way, because I work there I can send my son there too.  Elston isn’t a baby anymore, but I still need to raise him right.” Elston Howard Cook, named after the first African American to play for the New York Yankees, reflected both the family legacy of baseball and unbowed spirit. Elston had been Jackie’s pride and joy the entire time Veronica had known her in New York.

Jackie continued, “He’s got great schools here.  He loves baseball, here he has great coaches and a team he loves.  He’s only 14 and the local writers are already expecting him to try to go pro - ‘can Elston Howard Cook redeem the legacy of his grandfather Terence?’- I can’t pick up and move.  And talking to Wallace without being with him - it’s too hard.” 

“And what if Wallace came to New York?”  Veronica asked.

Jackie was stunned.  The idea had clearly never occurred to her.  She had decided long ago not to stand in the way of Wallace’s success as he went to college, made his way in the world.  She hadn’t really thought about how things had changed in 11 years.

“Look, Jackie, all I’m saying is, he’s single and he’s 30.  Wallace is a teacher and a coach - that’s his life - maybe he could do that here instead of Neptune.  I haven’t talked to him about this at all - but maybe you should.”

“Yeah...” Jackie replied thoughtfully.  “Maybe I will.”  It was into this break of the conversation that Kim efficiently brought the food - Jackie thanked her mother and pensively sucked on her milkshake.  Veronica tucked in to her long-awaited Brooklyn pancakes.  Eventually, Jackie broke the silence,

“Since when do you give good dating advice, Veronica Mars?”

“I’ve always given good advice,” Veronica rejoined.  “I just don’t have a lot of friends to practice on.  It’s been my dating  _life_  that’s a mess.”

“So, what’s the latest?”

“I’m pregnant.”  Veronica blurted.  She was surprised with herself - she had expected a business-like interview focused on saving Lilly Welles, not an emotional heart-to-heart with a long-lost friend.  The confession hadn’t been intended, but Jackie was actually the only friend she had with a kid.  Veronica had talked to her father, but it wasn’t the same.  Duncan obviously had Lilly, but whatever Veronica and Duncan were, it went beyond friendship and didn’t lend itself to getting advice.  “It’s barely a few weeks in.  I don’t know what to do.  I haven’t told anyone except my dad and Logan.”

“So Logan is the father?”  Jackie asked politely.

Veronica restrained her initial, forceful reaction to the question.  It hadn’t gone well snapping at Logan last night, and it was unfair to castigate her friend for wanting to know the situation.  Jackie was just trying to get the lay of the land - she hadn’t seen Veronica in four years and doesn’t know what Veronica does in Neptune. It was a fair question on Jackie’s part.  Intimations of infidelity didn’t sit well and was still a hot-button issue for Veronica.  Maybe an undeserved reputation as the town whore for so long played into the strong emotional reaction.

Instead, Veronica took a deep breath, and answered with a simple, “yes.”

“Are you keeping it?”  Jackie asked.  Veronica thought that Jackie must have taken some classes on how to do counseling for her master’s, she’s asking this very professionally and gently.

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  Logan would be devastated if I didn’t, but I don’t know if this is something either of us can do.”

“Why don’t you think you can do it?”

“What would I do for a living?  This isn’t just a job for me - it’s who I am.  I went back to being a PI because to do anything else, to be a lawyer here - it would have ended in spectacular failure.  I’d have been miserable and gone crazy.  And as for Logan - he’s all drama and no stability.  We’re epic - spanning years and continents, but I don’t know if he’s capable of settling down, of having a family.”

“Have you talked to Logan about this?”

“I’ve started to.  He’s ecstatic about the news, and supportive and protective, which is certainly the best I could hope for right now.  We have another call tonight.”  Veronica answered.  “How did you do it?  Raise a kid by yourself?”

Jackie laughed at Veronica’s question.  “Well, for starters, I didn’t do it by myself.  Sure, Elston’s dad was out of the picture, but you have no idea how much I relied on mom. Hell,  _she_  had Elston for a year on her own.  And, where family fails, friends are there.  When mom got sick, and you would babysit Elston - I appreciate that more than words can say.  Plus, I think some of it was simple stubbornness.  You remember what I was like in high school - I’d like to think I’m not so entitled, but I’m not going to let anything get in my way, whether it’s a stuck-up princess with a dunk tank or a history of socio-economic oppression enforced by lack of educational opportunities and upward mobility.”  If Veronica hadn’t known her friend was a social studies teacher due to the QAB handbook, that last remark would have given it away.  Jackie continued:

“Anyway, I  _succeeded_.  But I had help, in addition to my mulish determination.  And I had to make sacrifices.  I don’t really date.  My friends are mostly other moms, and mostly rich ones at that, who don’t really get me.  They are very generous about lending out their closets though,” Jackie said, half-jokingly.  “That’s my one complaint about you as a friend Veronica- you’re too short to borrow clothes from.  That and the other thing.”

“The other thing?”  Veronica asked, confused.  Jackie had clearly been joking about the lack of sartorial generosity - short jokes were always easy targets.  But the pivot Jackie made sounded more serious.  A lot of more serious.

“You don’t trust anyone.  Like,  _any_ -one.  You would even keep Wallace at arm’s length and that man would die for you.  You went up in court and the Aaron Echolls case got destroyed because of how often you lied to your dad.  You and Logan were all over the map.  You don’t let people in, and you’re suspicious of everyone.  I know you’re here looking for Lilly Welles, but you should know me better than that.  Tell Duncan it wasn’t me.”

The announcement was mind-blowing.  Jackie had followed a blistering truth-bomb with the completely unexpected revelation of Duncan’s secret identity.  Despite the enormity of what was said, Veronica was not one to react slowly.  She instantly went on the offensive, answered rapidly and clearly, using clipped tones and strong emphasis to meet the challenge with rational thought and well-reined anger.

“For starters, I do know you better than that.  This time, you’re being too suspicious.  If I thought you were responsible for Lilly, I’d have tailed you in secret, not met for boy talk over milkshakes at mom’s diner.  So let’s get that cleared up  _immediately_.

“If I’m hesitant to let people in, it might have something to do with getting burned so much.  I distinctly remember an embarrassing incident involving a friend, a local TV psychic, and boob cream.  Now, that was a long time ago, and I’ve forgiven you for it, but a lot of people have either abandoned me, or gotten killed because of me.  I am suspicious.  And I’m usually right.  It’s when I’m not suspicious enough that people get hurt.

“And finally, I am  _really_  interested to hear what you know about Duncan and Lilly.   _Right now_.”

Jackie was taken aback by Veronica’s response.  She looked ashamed that, despite her allegation, she had been the suspicious one, and appeared downright abashed at the mention of ‘boob cream.’  It had not been Jackie’s finest hour.  Jackie wasn’t one to admit she was wrong often - she had that in common with Veronica - but she apparently recognized that she should have approached Veronica differently.  

It was a fine speech by Veronica with one flaw - the first part was a total lie.  Veronica  _didn’t_  know Jackie well enough to eliminate her as a suspect - she still suspected that Jackie could have nabbed Lilly, and was colluding with the guy who sent the ransom email.  The reason she wasn’t tailing Jackie was because she didn’t have time, and she didn’t think it would work.  Detective work wasn’t one-size-fits-all - it had to adapt.  

Jackie had motive - sick mothers rack up a lot of medical bills.  She was known to Lilly, and apparently knew who Duncan was. Jackie was most definitely  _not_  clear in Veronica’s mind.  But it’s not like you can tell a suspect that you’re looking hard at them - then they’ll lie to you.  Veronica still needed either more dirt or an alibi for her old friend, and it would be easier to get if Jackie didn’t think she was a suspect.

“Of course, I’m sorry.  I should have realized.”  Jackie started.  “Duncan and Lilly - I’ve known since I saw Duncan at a ‘get to know the teachers’ event.  He didn’t talk to me - I don’t even know if he saw me, but I recognized him.  You go to school with someone every day for the better part of a year, they look familiar - even with the facial hair.  I didn’t tell anyone.  I know what it means to fight hard for your kid - Duncan was just doing the best he could.  I just kept it to myself, but when Lilly didn’t come to school today, and ‘security consultant’ Veronica Mars shows up, I figured it had to do with her.”

“And have you thought of going to Duncan asking for money?”  Veronica asked.  She hoped the way it was phrased kept it friendly, without implying blackmail.  “Help with your mom’s bills?”

“I made my success - I don’t take shortcuts and I don’t take handouts.”  Jackie responded emphatically.  Veronica hadn’t known her to have such pride, but it made sense.

“And I’m loyal.”  Jackie continued.  “I remember how the two of you used to be together.  You’re like family to me. And I know he’s like family to you.  I wouldn’t do that to him.”  Jackie stubbornly sticking by her course of action once she had chosen it definitely sounded like her.  She had transferred to Neptune High in senior year, and stuck it out even when she became a social pariah.  She had practically developed hypothermia at the school carnival dunk tank, but didn’t quit.  It was that grim-faced determination that had gotten her through college and grad school while waitressing, and it was something Veronica respected.

“So what can you tell me about who might have taken Lilly?”  Veronica asked.

“Well, I don’t know anything for certain, but... I don’t trust Laura.”  If Jackie had taken Lilly, then of course she would try to deflect suspicion.  But between Jackie and Astrid, Veronica was more inclined to believe Jackie, despite her checkered past.

“What makes you suspicious of Lilly’s mom?”

“Laura was incredibly possessive of Lilly before Kathryn died.  I see plenty of helicopter parents here, and Laura went above and beyond.  It looked like she didn’t feel comfortable, that she was worried Kathryn would steal Lilly away from her.  I don’t know, maybe I was reading too much into it because I knew that Meg was Lilly’s real mom.  But then, Kathryn died, and all of a sudden Laura got normal.  Even let Lilly go to dance class without escorting her by herself.  Kathryn’s death was a bit dubious - I was surprised not to see an investigation.  Obviously Duncan didn’t need the money, but I wondered if Laura had done something, just to get Kathryn out of the picture.  And now, with Lilly disappearing, I’m just not sure if she’s trying to take Lilly away from Duncan too.”

Jackie’s misgivings added a whole new wrinkle to the case.  Could Astrid fake kidnapping her daughter?  Veronica had seen it before, for far less money.  Astrid was at least a good enough liar to adopt a false identity for a decade - a few crocodile tears to Veronica wouldn’t be too hard.  And what did it say that Astrid had let Duncan take their daughter away for a year, but then came back?  That Astrid loved Lilly too much to stay away for more than a year?  That Astrid realized her meal ticket for a comfortable life was walking away?  

Based on what Veronica had seen, how Duncan had described their life- she thought Astrid really loved Lilly.  Perhaps more importantly, Astrid seemed to want to keep her life exactly as it was.  You don’t work a decade getting an English PhD because you love money, or to throw away the credential.  It was a risky game to fake a kidnapping when Jake Kane might take away a beloved daughter, but even if it paid off, it definitely meant starting life all over again.  Veronica didn’t think Astrid was capable of it.

Could Astrid have killed Kathryn?  Mess with her bike?  Be the driver in the hit and run?  Hire someone?  Problems for later.  Time enough to deal with year-old mysterious deaths after Lilly Welles was found.

“Ok, Jackie.  That’s helpful.  Do you recognize either of these men?”  Veronica asked, showing Jackie the album of two photos she cobbled on her phone in the back of a cab - a screenshot of the ransomer, and a picture of Clarence Wiedman.  Although Veronica looked carefully at Jackie’s reaction when she first saw each picture, there was no discernible change in attitude for either one.

“Sorry, they don’t look familiar, but that first one didn’t show much.  Should I know them?”

“The first one was a ransomer - he’s definitely working with whoever has Lilly.  The second is Clarence Wiedman, head of security at Kane Software.  He’s also looking for Lilly, and can be a bit ruthless.  Do you have anything I can give him to clear you?  I’d rather he not even know Duncan’s identity has been compromised- it could put you in danger.”  Wiedman made the perfect bad cop.  He didn’t even need to be in the room and Veronica could use him - there was a silver lining to having him in New York after all.

“Yesterday was a game day - I was in Prospect Park from 3 to 5ish watching Elston - he pitched a shutout.  I’ve got some pictures and the baseball team saw me there.  Think that’ll satisfy him?”

Veronica smiled broadly and genuinely, for the first time certain that her good friend wasn’t a kidnapper.  “Yeah, that’ll be perfect.  Can you text me a couple of the early photos?  I’ll make sure Wiedman stays off your case, and I’d love to see what Elston looked like in action.”  
“Sure thing Veronica.  And Veronica?  Good luck.”


	15. A Restaurant

Veronica walked up Court Street from Brooklyn Dan’s to the Phantom Lady, the upscale restaurant where Lizzie Manning was a chef.  It was a short walk, and traffic would be bad either on foot or by cab - at least by walking Veronica could slide between the plebeian roadblocks.  Veronica hurried through the post-work crowd, slipping between elbows and occasionally lunging off the sidewalk for a quick dash in the roadway to pass slower knots of pedestrians.  Veronica was also using her phone - though she was far from the only one to type while walking, she was the only one doing it at a sprint.

Mac had managed to send a list of Neptuners in New York, sorted by likelihood based on employer and residence.  There were over a hundred names, each getting their own page later in the spreadsheet containing information in the public record - photo, birthdate, former Neptune address, current New York address, employer, car registry (if they had one), family information, and criminal history or professional licenses.  Mac had done a superlative job, and had even made a first cut of background checks on three of the top candidates. The school list and bus driver info was even included for completeness – no overlap among them except Jackie Cook.  

Mac had also taken a bit of artistic license in drawing the list up.  First up was “Stosh ‘Piz’ Piznarski :(“.  Mac had always liked Piz better than Logan, and apparently wanted to make that editorial comment again with a frowny face and a spot at the top of the list.  Veronica eliminated Piz out of hand - he had never met Duncan and hadn’t even moved to Neptune until September 2006, months after Duncan had left.  Veronica didn’t want to deal with Piz unless she had to - one ex-boyfriend for this job was plenty.

Next on the list was Jackie Cook, for obvious reasons.  No background check had been included, nor was it needed.

Third was Lizzie Manning, age 28.  In addition to the vital statistics, it had a bit of color.  She still seemed like a bit of a wild child.  A work-hard play-hard mentality, with long hours behind the stove and then even later nights at the bars.  She had trained at the CIA - the Culinary Institute of America in upstate New York, a rigorous and demanding program.  But Lizzie’s social media photos showed she had fun.  A lot of fun, based on the scenes of sybaritic tribadism carried to excess.  Lizzie had a live-in girlfriend, Violet Tilly, who featured in many of the photos, so the debauchery was probably exaggerated, but it still seemed like Lizzie was having a good time on and off her feet.  Despite the family connection and location, it was hard to see how Lizzie would make contact with a 12-year-old girl if, as Veronica suspected, the kidnapper was known to Lilly.

The next two on the list were also around Veronica’s age, though a few years older.  Trina Echolls, age 37, and Erik Marshall, age 32.  Dating each other, apparently.  Trina, who was Logan’s adopted sister, had been around the Kane family for years and had known Duncan well.  The scandal over the Aaron Echolls trial may be a motive for Trina to want revenge against the Kane family- the Echolls name had lost a lot of weight after the Kane family blamed Aaron of murder, and may have made it hard for Trina to get serious acting work.  Then again, Trina’s acting career had been marginal even before that, so it was pretty weak as far as motives go.

Trina’s boyfriend Erik had graduated from Pan High, Neptune’s rival and poorer cousin, in 2005.  Erik had been on the soccer team throughout, so would have met Duncan at several soccer matches, if nowhere else.  Erik was, like Trina, now a member of the extended New York theater scene.  Interestingly, Erik had a recent stint with an educational program involving puppet theater targeted at tweens and teens, where he may have met Lilly.  Nothing in his background suggested a particular vendetta against the Kane family, other than the fact that he could use $100 million and didn’t seem to have much keeping him here, other than Trina.  

Veronica made a silent prayer of thanks to Mark Zuckerberg and the gods of social media for making her job so much easier.  Mac had been administering Veronica’s Facebook and LinkedIn accounts for years, building a truly impressive friends list and sharing enough banal but humorous memes to keep them.  The compulsively private Veronica didn’t feel any particular lack from not posting to social media, but it was far too valuable an investigative tool to ignore - it had certainly paid off well here.  Veronica shot a text to Trina Echolls, “In NY - you up to meet tonight?”  Who would have thought that a perk of dating Logan would be meeting up with Trina Echolls unannounced?  It certainly hadn’t been a selling point when Veronica had gotten back together with him, but today, it was useful.

Next on the list were several Kane Software employees who had migrated from California to the New York office, followed by many more people with no obvious connection to Duncan or Astrid, some of whom didn’t appear to go anywhere near Brooklyn on a daily basis.  Veronica sent Mac a quick note to thank her, and gave her triage for background checks: first were school employees, then bus drivers, then Neptuners who might have been in Brooklyn yesterday.  SoS hadn’t given them anything yet.

Veronica also asked if Duncan could check the Grand Army Plaza subway station tape from 1:30 to 3 - Veronica didn’t think Astrid had taken Lilly, but it didn’t hurt to double-check.  Astrid might have walked from the Scarlet Street apartment to the school, so a lack of evidence wouldn’t totally clear her, but it was better than the needle-in-a-haystack Duncan was doing now.

Finally, Veronica prepped a photo to use in questioning Lizzie.  Veronica had a photo of Astrid and Lilly together, and decided to approach this like most of her work - a cheating spouse.  Veronica would ask if Lizzie recognized the woman in the picture, Astrid, but judge Lizzie’s reaction based on the whole photo.  It was the best way Veronica could sneak showing a photo of Lilly to her aunt without making it obvious to Lizzie - directly questioning Lizzie about a 12-year-old blond girl would destroy Duncan’s false identity.  Veronica worried that, even with the facial hair, Lizzie would recognize Duncan if given a photo of him, so Astrid got to be the cheating scum in Veronica’s little story.  If Lizzie reacted to the photo, she was probably involved somehow.

As Veronica readied herself to cross the street towards the Phantom Lady, she recognized the shadowed form of Clarence Wiedman, visible through the front window, sitting at the front of the restaurant with his back to the wall.  He didn’t see her, and was obviously focused on the people entering the restaurant and the cooking area, which was visible to all the diners due to recent trend.  Veronica doubted he was just there for an early dinner.

Pulling out her phone, Veronica shot a couple of quick pictures of Wiedman, and then promptly sent them to the head of Kane security as a text.  On impulse, Veronica remembered her promise to Vinnie Van Lowe, and added a second text saying “Vinnie sends his regards btw.”  Vinnie had wanted Wiedman’s attention- that would get it.

Wiedman checked his buzzing phone, on vibrate of course, and snapped his head up to find Veronica, just as she pleasantly waved at him while crossing the street to the restaurant.  He did not look pleased to see her. Veronica presumptuously sat in the empty chair across from Wiedman and looked at him directly – she didn’t like having her back to where the action was, but needed to keep the immediate threat in front of her.

Veronica heard the ominous sound of metal hollowly ringing against metal, and looked down – Wiedman was ringing the iron table support with a dull burnished 9mm, the standard military sidearm. As far as intimidations went, it was pretty effective and, not for the first time, Veronica felt like she was in way over her head. Their previous sparring had been limited to I-see-you-but-you-don’t-see-me-pictures, Veronica hadn’t expected Wiedman to bring a gun to a camera fight. Fortunately, Veronica had lots of practice being in way over her head, and found the best way out was through.

“I hope you have a permit for that thing.” Veronica quipped.

Wiedman just gave a tight smile and answered, “of course.” His matter-of-fact basso made it no less threatening. Since Kane Software had New York offices, he probably did, too. “What does Van Lowe know?”

“Vinnie knows you’re looking for Duncan, because you told him. He knows I am too, but I threatened him, y’know, nicely. I don’t think he knows we’re in New York, and unless he gets paid to look, he usually doesn’t bother. I bribed him with a bottle of scotch to keep him incurious and hopefully drunk the next couple of days, but he seems to want your attention.”

“Well,” responded Wiedman, “he has it. Thank you for the message – now leave.”

“What are you even doing here? Tailing a chef at work?”

“If you must know, and it will get you to leave quicker, I’m asking the waitstaff and busboys if Miss Manning was here the whole time yesterday. They don’t seem terribly observant, even with the open kitchen there, so it’s taking a while.”

“Give me 10 minutes and stay out of my way – I’ll let you know if it’s Lizzie.” Veronica declared, standing up and walking back towards the kitchen. Wiedman’s face remained impassive, but he didn’t try to stop Veronica.

Veronica approached the open kitchen and recognized Lizzie Manning, the crinkle-haired middle Manning daughter. Lizzie was deftly chopping vegetables with her chef’s knife, getting mise en place ready before the dinner rush truly started, wearing a white chef’s coat with her name embroidered in red on the left breast, and an ornate “Phantom Lady” in large letters underneath. The left sleeve of Lizzie’s coat was tucked up, holding a thermometer and spoon, her blond hair loose in a short bowl cut. Not wanting to startle the potential kidnapper with the sharp knife, Veronica called to Lizzie from the other side of the partition,

“Hey, Lizzie Manning! You have a minute?”

Lizzie looked up at Veronica, surprised and not exactly pleased, but lacking any outright animosity. Lizzie’s usual reaction to Veronica had always been slight disdain, and Lizzie wasn’t one to keep her emotions or thoughts to herself.

“Veronica Mars, as I live and breathe. I’m guessing if I don’t talk to you that you’ll just annoy me through the partition all night?”

Veronica didn’t have time to waste at the Phantom Lady, but her needlesome reputation might speed things up if Lizzie thought that Veronica might. “Something like that. I’ll be quick, I promise – you won’t feel a thing.”

“That’s not a pickup line that usually works on me, but for Veronica Mars I’ll make an exception.” Lizzie answered. She put the chopped peppers in a bowl, cleaned her knife and set it in a rack before turning to a neighboring cook, saying “smoke break.” Lizzie then made a sharp tilt of her head towards the rear door of the restaurant, indicating Veronica should follow. As she left, she picked up a paper card from an old-style timekeeping machine and dropped it down, literally punching out for a break. Veronica followed Lizzie to the dark region behind the restaurant glad that at least Lizzie had left the knife behind.

The area behind the restaurant wasn’t exactly an alley – it had no obvious street access and overlooked the back yards and fire escapes of neighboring residential buildings. The cracked pavement under Veronica’s feet was depressingly bare, with inky blackness crowding in around Veronica and Lizzie, who stood under the sole light, hooded against the neighbors but naked to Veronica and Lizzie underneath, giving off a harsh hemisphere of illumination.

Lizzie pulled out a cigarette and started smoking – Marlboroughs, unfiltered, by the box. Veronica wasn’t sure why a chef that relied on her senses of taste and smell would smoke, but apparently the break was normal. Lizzie puffed quickly, then gave Veronica an aggrieved look, murky tendrils of haze wafting around the singular overhead lamp, “You’ve got five minutes before my smoke break is done and I have to head in for the dinner rush, so let’s do this quick. I don’t know whether to curse you out for fucking up Grace’s case against the Neptune Grand, or thank you for catching the asshole that fucked her up in the first place. But she seems to think she owes you, so I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks Lizzie. How is Grace doing?” Veronica asked. Grace was one of the few that knew the girl born as “Faith Manning” had been renamed Lilly. Veronica had let it slip to the battered but unbeaten youngest Manning sister, and hoped that it hadn’t come back to bite her.

“Grace is good. She’s joined the touring company of _Les Miserables_ for the summer. As a _lead_.” Lizzie showed obvious pride in this. She had always stuck up for her sisters, even if she didn’t always get along with them, and she had always been outspoken. “She’s set to finish up Hearst in the spring – took her an extra year, but she’s doing it. Plan is for her to move in with me and Violet next year until she gets her feet under her in New York. No help from the parents, of course. I hear they moved out to Utah or some bullshit, won’t even talk about any of us girls anymore – bastard-birther Meg, Grace the whore, and Lizzie the lezzie. Fuck ‘em.” 

“I’m glad to hear that Grace is doing well. I’m actually here on a case. I’ve been tapping my New York network and going bicoastal, been here about a week tailing a cheating spouse. I was wondering if I could show you a quick pic and you could tell me if you saw her in the restaurant with anyone.”

“Yeah, easy enough, let’s see.” Lizzie said around a mouth full of smoke.

Veronica put one hand into her bag to covertly ready her pepper spray and used the other to get her phone to the pre-set photo. Veronica showed Lizzie the picture of Astrid and Lilly, looking carefully for any reaction. Lizzie immediately flushed red, her eyes widened and she choked on the dregs of miasma she had sucked from her cigarette. Saying that she recognized someone was an understatement – Lizzie either didn’t care what she was showing, or had one of the worst poker faces Veronica had seen. And if she was involved in the abduction of Lilly Welles, she was incredibly dangerous. Veronica was now very aware that she was alone back here, and only Clarence Wiedman knew where she was. Wiedman would certainly rescue Lilly later, but that wasn’t going to help Veronica right now if things got bad. Veronica’s hand clenched on the pepper spray in readiness, her iron grip holding it tight despite the sweatiness of her palms.

“That bitch!” Lizzie exclaimed. “She never said a thing about being married, I swear!”

Either Lizzie was a much quicker thinker on her feet than the discomforted reaction had shown, or she and Astrid had hooked up at some point. Veronica’s ruse was falling off the rails, and needed to get steered into a useful direction. Also, if true, it was vaguely disturbing that Astrid had sex with her child’s aunt. Veronica restrained a disgusted tremor and instead asked carefully:

“So how did you meet this woman?” 

“This was, maybe, three years ago, before me and Violet really got to be a thing. I went to Stonewall with a bunch of friends and picked up the hot little redhead there, Laura. We went back to her place – one of those big fancy things down by the park. Gave her my number, we hooked up a few more times. Not exactly a one night stand, but not a serious thing either. I didn’t see any pictures of a wife. Husband, either, I guess – just the girl. I figured it had played its course and I haven’t seen her in years.”

Veronica frantically went through her phone looking for a good picture of Lilly to use, then set that as her phone wallpaper and locked the phone. Wouldn’t want Lizzie flipping through the phone, especially since the concept of discretion seemed alien to the woman. Veronica flipped the phone back to Lizzie with the picture of her niece.

“Did you ever meet the girl? It might be helpful.”

Lizzie’s reaction at seeing Lilly was barely discernible. Faint recognition. “Look, Laura was fun in bed, but she was also a nice lady. I wouldn’t want to screw up her chances to get custody of her kid, so even if I had met the girl, I don’t think I’d tell you. But no, I never saw her daughter, just pictures around the apartment. I mean, do you bring your booty calls around to your family?”

It was actually not a problem that Veronica had, but she could relate – she had had enough trouble introducing boys to Keith. Lizzie seemed to want her conversations like her cigarettes – unfiltered. Veronica wasn’t sure Lizzie had the capacity to lie about knowing Lilly – she may be too upfront. However, Veronica must have taken too long to answer Lizzie, because then Lizzie pulled a last drag on her cigarette and stomped it out, continuing on,

“You don’t have that problem, do you? No one night stands for virginal Veronica. Look, my parents disowned me, but I’m happy with my life and I don’t need the judgment of you or anyone else about how I live. Everyone thought Meg was a saint too, and look how that turned out. I’m in my 20’s, I work 12 hour days, I live in one of the best bar cities in the world, and my girlfriend and I understand each other – I can have some fun if I want to. If that’s not good enough for you, then fuck you, too.”

Lizzie’s mercurial honesty was disrupting Veronica’s plan again. At this point, Veronica didn’t suspect Lizzie, so much as needed to bandage the relationship with her and beat a hasty retreat. The Duncan issue wasn’t going away, and life would be much easier if Veronica maintained a good relationship with the Manning sisters when it came to a head.

Veronica reached out and held Lizzie’s shoulder – not grabbing but just trying to keep her from running back inside just yet. “No, look, sorry Lizzie, it’s just that, what you said struck me. No judgment, really. You seem happy, and you’re honest with the people you care about, that’s the most important thing. But actually, what I was thinking, is that I almost ended up with that lifestyle. I’ve been wondering, what would my life have been like if I was working in New York for 12-hour-plus days? What would I have done to escape the drudgery of legal work? If I hadn’t skipped town, it might have been me you found at Stonewall three years ago.”

Lizzie’s open face betrayed her thoughts transparently – she didn’t fully believe Veronica swung that way, but was mollified by the apology and the hint of a compliment that Veronica found Lizzie attractive enough to go home with. And like all good lies, there was a bit too much truth in it for Veronica to have completely made it up.

Lizzie answered with a hint of mischief in her eyes, “That’s not a pickup line that usually works on me, but for you, Veronica Mars, I’ll make an exception. It’s not too late.”

“I’m flattered, and I’ll consider it, but rain check, ok? I have more work to do tonight, and a jealous boyfriend to talk to before anything like that.”

Lizzie gave a quick head nod to acknowledge Veronica’s politic response and ducked back into the restaurant, clocking in on the ancient punch-clock. As Veronica walked past, she pulled up Lizzie’s timecard and took a quick picture – no large gaps yesterday between noon and midnight.

Stalking up to Clarence Wiedman, still sitting at his table, Veronica showed him the image of the timecard triumphantly. “She’s not it. She slept with Astrid, but believes the cover story, and has an alibi. Good enough?”

Wiedman’s face was one of grudging respect, so Veronica decided to press her advantage while she could. Skimming through her photos, she pulled up a picture of Elston Howard Cook dramatically striking out the leadoff player from yesterday’s game and showed it to Wiedman.

“Jackie Cook alibi’s out too – son’s baseball game. So are we going to keep stumbling over each other, or are you willing to cooperate with me? For Lilly?”

Wiedman was like a boxer rocked back on his heels, but his professionalism barely cracked – the best Veronica got was that his look of grudging respect broke through into a brief look of acceptance, and was then replaced with a professional-level poker face. “Fine,” he agreed. “No sense in wasting our resources. Fair warning, Miss Mars – if I find the girl first, I’m going to do what I’m going to do. You are getting the bare minimum necessary to keep us from tripping over our own shoes.”

“I’d expect nothing less, Clarence. First – let’s compare suspect lists.” Veronica said, sending Mac’s list to Wiedman’s e-mail address. If he was surprised that she knew what it was, he didn’t let on. A moment later, Wiedman sent a similar file – every name on his list was on Mac’s, but the Kane folks had missed all the commuters, and didn’t have as much information on each person as Mac had. Veronica smiled toothily at Mac’s superiority and simply said, “let’s use my list as a starting point, then. I’ll take Trina Echolls, her boyfriend, and Astrid.”

Wiedman went through Veronica’s more comprehensive list quickly before answering, “Astrid? Do you think she had something to do with this?”

“I haven’t eliminated the possibility yet. I was hired by Duncan, not her, and it’s a lot of money. I believe Lilly was taken by someone she knew. That said, I give it a low likelihood that Astrid would leave her new life.”

“And Duncan – do you think he could have done it?”

The question stunned Veronica. She was willing to suspect a friend of decades, she was willing to suspect the girl’s adopted mother, but hadn’t thought Duncan could do this. She had, at one point wondered if he were capable of both rape and murder, but it had practically destroyed her to think of him that way. Maybe cynical, suspicious Veronica Mars did have a blind spot when it came to Duncan Kane. She not only didn’t suspect him – she had asked him for help. She got him _involved_. Like they were still teenagers and he was putting on beatnik wear to sneak into the Manning house. If Astrid could fake a kidnapping for money, Duncan could just as easily. They would both leave behind their professional credentials. But the fact was, Veronica felt she knew Duncan better than that, that he couldn’t do it. Even Clarence’s question didn’t shake Veronica’s belief that kind and caring Duncan Kane needed her help – it just shook Veronica’s self-assessment as someone incredulous enough to do the job. Rather than confront what this blind spot meant, Veronica dealt with the immediate question, which had a fairly simple solution.

“I’m sorry Clarence, I was hired by Duncan and I don’t discuss my client’s confidential information. If you suspect it’s Duncan, you’ll need to look into him yourself – I’m not going to investigate my employer, just as I don’t expect you to investigate Jake Kane.” Maybe Veronica should have been a lawyer. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

Clarence Wiedman, ever the consummate professional, seemed to accept this answer with equanimity. If Veronica had admitted to skipping Duncan as a suspect due to old feelings for him - the high school sweethearts and star-crossed lover story – she was certain it would get no sympathy from Clarence Wiedman. Loyalty to employer, however, appeared sacrosanct.

“Fair enough, Miss Mars.” Clarence stated, “You can work on the associates of your various boyfriends, I’ll clear the Kane Software employees on the list. I believe I have better resources for that task than you.” You would think so, but Clarence would be surprised by what Veronica could do. Veronica would have to ask Mac to keep tabs on Wiedman’s Kane internal internet traffic, and let Veronica know of any important developments. Actually, Mac was surely already doing that, but it didn’t hurt to check. “Everyone else is fair game.”

Veronica decided to withhold the snark that she had Wiedman’s inside scoop, and instead stuck to business, “I’ve got an off-book NYPD detective canvassing Atlantic Ave near the Cheezburger Café. He’s working for me – don’t interfere with him. You have a visual of the ransomer?”

Wiedman kept his face professional, which Veronica took as the closest she was going to get to amazed respect. “We have the café’s security footage, which shows nothing useful. Yankees hat.”

Veronica sent the screenshot of the ransomer to Wiedman as well, “Here’s the best I’ve got from NYPD security cams. White, male, average height. Hopefully Detective Vulcan gets us something better. If he does, I’ll share it with you.” Veronica pointedly did not say she would share it immediately – Wiedman understood. When Veronica shared the video depended on how good it was – she wanted first crack at anyone once they were identified. But it was better than nothing.

As Veronica was putting her phone back in her bag, the phone jumped with an incoming text. It was Trina Echolls, “Veronica! Just wrapped show, party @ Larry’s bar, 80 and Amsterdam, come by!”

Veronica wanted to wrap up this tete a tete with Wiedman and get to the upper west side. “Where are you on teachers, bus drivers and contractors?”

“Bus drivers all have alibis – they were driving buses.” Wiedman volunteered. “No unexplained absences. Teachers we’re working on, contractors we haven’t gotten anything from the company yet.”

“Same here. Well,” Veronica added conversationally, packing up, “I’ve got to be on my way to my next appointment. I’ll be back at the school tomorrow morning, in case you were wondering. 

“And there’s one other item you should know, if you decide to look into Duncan.  The only reason I’m working with you is because it’s what  _he_  would want. He told me that he would help you find his daughter, even if it meant never seeing her again. He told me that family, loyalty, and honor mean everything to CW.”

Clarence Wiedman, the hard-bitten veteran, the dogged investigator and ruthless fixer, who had barely registered a reaction at Veronica’s sordid revelations and dazzling investigative skill, heard Duncan’s appraisal and looked like he had been shot in the gut.


	16. A Bar

Veronica stepped out of the cab at 80th Street and Amsterdam Avenue in Manhattan’s Upper West Side, searching for her bearings and a bar named “Larry’s.”  Like most self-respecting New Yorkers, and even more broke New York grad students, Veronica had rarely taken taxis while she lived here.  But this was on Duncan’s dime and time was of the essence - she doubted Duncan would mind.  
Larry’s was one of the omnipresent Irish bars that littered New York, which daily went back and forth between friendly hangout and place to get shitfaced and find someone to fuck.  Like good comedy, it was all about timing, and right now Larry’s was still looking pretty friendly, with many of the people eating at the booths and bar, and the music drowned out by raucous conversation.  The closer they got to 2 a.m. closing time and the inevitable rendition of Sweet Caroline before everyone was ushered  out the door, the more Veronica would have to be wary of poorly executed pickup lines and unwelcome manhandling. She wondered if The Stonewall Inn had this problem.

Trina’s crew (and cast as well, probably) took up most of the central booths, with Trina herself sitting squarely in the middle of the room in an oddly oversized booth accessible from both ends.  It was an unusually spread-out design for the space-conscious New York bar scene.  The front-and-center seating arrangement suited the fiery-haired thespian to a T - Trina Echolls may not be the most self-involved, self-aggrandizing, overdramatic person that Veronica knew, but that was just a function of how many self-entitled brats she had grown up around, and not any especial virtue on Trina’s part.  Where Logan was overblown and exaggerated in a self-aware, puckishly humorous way, Trina had adopted her father’s hamminess without any of Logan’s underpinning humor.

Seated next to redheaded actress was a gargantuan, broad-faced goofball with nondescript brown hair.  Well over 6 feet in height, his dark brown eyes sat under an overtall forehead, his thin-lipped smile leading to a pronounced chin.  Based on Mac’s list, this was Erik Marshall, Trina’s current leach.  If he had kidnapped Lilly, then he was working with someone else - Erik’s Sasquatchian proportions were far too big to have been the ransomer.

If Veronica ever felt bad about her dating life and received enjoyment from schadenfreude, she would only have to look at the deadbeats, moochers, layabouts, leaches and just plain assholes that Trina had left in her wake.  It really just made Veronica sad.  Trina had come from an abusive home, and if she hadn’t been physically abused as Logan had, growing up in the Echolls house had still left its mark.  Veronica’s psychology classes in college had gone into Trina’s issues in depth - books like “The Game,” and shows like “The Pickup Artist” even more so.  Trina wanted attention and acceptance and was drawn to guys who generally didn’t give either.  It probably didn’t help that, since Aaron had died, she was rich.  Still, she hadn’t squandered all her money, so somewhere in her bad taste in men, she recognized that her boyfriends were a bad investment money wise.  

Trina recognized Veronica and made broad gestures of welcoming to her inner court – a booth seat across from Trina and Erik was open, either due to a bathroom break or an early seduction.  Their loss was Veronica’s gain, and Veronica wove through the crowd and into the seat before another could claim it.  

“Veronica!”  Trina greeted Veronica as if she were Parisienne, with a kiss on each cheek. Trina’s pale skin and green eyes were set above a slightly aquiline nose and attractive features, but all of Trina’s other characteristics were far outweighed by her flaming hair and melodramatic attitude. 

“Trina!”  Veronica greeted enthusiastically.  “It’s been ages!  Logan says hi, of course.  So, wrap party on a Tuesday, what’s the story?”  Even in Trina’s run of experimental and other theater, ending a show’s run on a random September Tuesday would be unusual.  Besides, it would get Trina talking about her two favorite topics, theater and herself – and since Veronica had a keen interest in the topic of Trina Echolls right now, this lined up pretty well.

“Well, you may not have heard,” Trina started in her affected theater accent, “but we’ve had a very successful run doing a revival of  _Hair_  in Central Park. Bringing the seminal piece back to New York – and not just New York but in the park that inspired it all!  And I think it’s a very important work that’s just gotten more relevant in our current political environment, don’t you?”

Veronica had to admit, as far as Trina theater projects went, that actually sounded pretty good.  “Let the sunshine in, man.”  Veronica replied.  She just needed to keep up the occasional positive feedback and interest in the story and Trina would talk about herself and whereabouts the past two days endlessly.

 “Exactly!  It’s a pity you weren’t here before today, you would have made a fabulous Sheila, and we’ve had people subbing in and out the entire run.  Anyway, it’s an outdoor show, and the actors are all fully committed to the nudity, so with rain expected tomorrow and cold after that, we must sadly conclude our run.”  
   
“That makes good sense.  So, Trina, introduce me to the big guy here – who’s this?”  Veronica asked, indicating Erik.

“Oh, introductions, of course.  Veronica, Erik – Erik, Veronica.  Erik was Claude to my Jeanie, which was, of course, fabulous casting as we’re dating in real life too.  Erik had a very successful career in indie films before coming east to the capital of the live theater scene. You should hear the story about him rapping with Martin Starr!  You may recognize him as a drug dealer who beat up Joseph Gordon-Levitt in  _Brick_.”

Mr. Marshall may have been an indie darling, but he had gone big-budget in finding a rich girlfriend.  One thing was certain, in a world of suckers and players, Trina was a sucker – and if Erik was taking advantage of that, that made Erik a player.  If someone at this table had grabbed Lilly, Veronica’s money was on Bigfoot, and she needed to find out more.

“I think I do recognize you, Erik.”  Veronica said slowly, as if remembering something faintly.  “Did you go to Pan High?  I was working on a project there for a week and I think I met you.”

“Yeah,” Erik answered laconically, pulling a large gulp from the beer in front of him.  After putting the beer back down, he didn’t seem inclined to add more.

“So what’s up next for you two?” Veronica asked.

“Well,” Trina began.  Veronica got the sense that Trina did most of the talking between the two of them.  “Erik is putting together this brilliant show.  It’s called ‘ _Tool Time Tunes_ , a musical revue based on the hit TV show _Home Improvement._ ’  It’ll have everything, not just song and dance, but explorations of toxic masculinity, exploitation of women, and capitalism preying upon the working class.  What do you think of the concept?”

“Well,” Veronica replied, “I wasn’t such a fan of the TV show.  The dad was a total space cadet and the kids reminded me of the worst jerks in high school.  But what you guys are doing sounds like a fresh take.”

Erik seemed unimpressed by Veronica’s response, though Veronica didn’t take it personally.  Erik seemed unimpressed by life in general.  He finished his beer in another gulp and then excused himself to the bathroom, where he walked right past a string of three women waiting for the ladies’ restroom and into the empty men’s room.  Sometimes life was unfair.  Veronica decided to see if she could establish the whereabouts of Erik and Trina while the grumpy giant relieved his beer-swollen bladder.

“So, Trina, how did today’s finale compare to yesterday’s penultimate show?”

“Oh, I definitely think we ended on a high note today.  We needed so many last-minute subs yesterday, it really hurt us.  Today was so much better – we had a massive following join our ‘be-in’ and showed how much the piece really impacted people.”  

As Trina compared the shows, a waitress came by with a fresh round of cold beers, foam spilling over onto the tray.  Veronica asked for an ice water.

“How about Erik, did he make it yesterday?”  Veronica asked.  “I know how important the chemistry between Claude and Jeanie is to the dynamic of the show.”

“No, I think that’s what was really disappointing about yesterday’s performance.  You’re absolutely right, Veronica, the interaction between me and Erik really carries the show, and he had to cancel yesterday.  But we more than made up for it today!  He actually lost his loincloth and was fully nude for parts!  It’s a good thing we ended the run while the weather is warm – I’d hate for him to get frostbite!”

Ugh.  Veronica was suddenly grateful she had left checking on Erik and Trina until after the show – she had no desire to see that big goof naked.  Regardless, Trina had a good alibi playing flower child in the park yesterday while Lilly was kidnapped, but Erik most definitely did not.  Maybe Veronica could get a bit more info on Trina’s taciturn boyfriend.

“Yeah, frostbite would be no fun – I’m sure you need to keep all your parts, and not just the ones a loincloth covers.  I heard that an actor’s hands can be his most expressive tool – more important than the face even,” Veronica lead, certain that Trina would run with the idea.  Talkative witnesses were Veronica’s best friends.

“You know, Veronica, you might be right,” Trina agreed, unsurprisingly, “the hands can be read from far away, letting the cheap seats know how you’re feeling even if they can’t see your face.  They can show anxiousness if they move a lot, defensiveness if you hold them up, and friendliness if they are splayed wide.  That’s a very good point.  And that doesn’t even take into account puppetry work, like Erik does – hands are absolutely essential for that.”

“Really?”  Veronica asked, attentive and feigning ignorance.  Mac’s profiling had paid off again. “Erik does puppetry?  How interesting!”

“Oh, absolutely –“Trina started, just as Erik came back from the bathroom and slumped into the chair next to Trina.  “Oh, hey honey, we were just talking about the puppet work you do.  The educational programming for kids – do you want to tell Veronica about it?”

Erik grabbed one of the fresh beers and took a big sip, foamy head clinging to his upper lip like an obscene temporary pedo-stache.  “Yeah.  Puppets.  For kids.”

 Veronica and Trina awkwardly let the silence fret a moment longer, until it became obvious that Erik wasn’t going to speak any further.  If Erik was the kidnapper, Veronica did not want to alert him to her suspicions.  As far as Erik knew, Veronica was just a friend from back home dating Trina’s brother – it would be best to keep it that way.  In this group, Veronica knew the best topic to kickstart away from an awkward silence and hopefully allay Erik’s suspicion.

“So, Trina, Erik’s got his musical, but what are you working on next?”  Veronica asked.

“Well, I’m on the short list for a remake of _Breaking the Rules_.  It was an ‘80’s road trip movie, and, since _Zootopia_ , Jason Bateman is extra bankable right now – they want him to reprise his old role and need someone who’s a believable love interest for him. So, y’know, a decade younger.  I’m also on the waitlist to join the ‘Real Housewives of New York,’ but they’re not convinced I’m interesting enough.  Hey – next time you talk to Logan, could you ask him to do something extra heroic?  I think that would really help.”

Veronica understood Trina’s self-absorption intellectually – Veronica had been called self-centered a time or two herself – but Trina’s self-interest here was staggering.  Veronica worried constantly that Logan would die in a crash landing, in some international “miscommunication”, or because he was too damn stupid and brave to pull back to save himself when someone else needed him.  The last thing she wanted was for Logan to intentionally seek out heroics, and here was Trina asking for it because it would make her look good to folks running a reality TV show.  Veronica supposed she should be happy that Trina hadn’t asked him to get captured by the enemy for ratings, and just settle in for a long night of keeping tabs on Trina’s enormous hanger-on.

 “Yeah, Trina, I’ll be sure to mention it when I talk to him tonight,” Veronica lied.

…

Veronica Mars had a problem.  She was looking for a phone – specifically, she needed to see what was on Erik Marshall’s iPhone without alerting him that he was her prime suspect in the kidnapping of Lilly Welles.  

Outright theft was unlikely to work - he had a passcode on the phone.  Veronica might have been able to surreptitiously see what his code was, but he used the thumb ID feature to unlock his phone the one time he had checked it for something other than the time.

Borrowing the phone for a group photo was risky.  Although Trina would likely be up for a few glamour shots with her boyfriend, the new phones let you take photos without fully unlocking it.  Erik seemed to have one of the new iPhone 7’s, probably courtesy of Trina, and just a few short weeks away from obsolescence when the 8’s came out.

The old, tried and true, method was to borrow the phone to make a call.  However, even dumb kidnappers didn’t just give their phone to strangers.  Plus, Veronica got the feeling that Erik wasn’t a kind and generous soul, and would only lend his phone if nobody else would, and someone made him. 

So, Veronica did start by stealing a phone - Trina’s.  Logan’s sister had left her phone on the table after the latest round of group selfies.  The photos had unfortunately been posted immediately to Facebook, almost certainly geotagged.  There wasn’t much Veronica could do to prevent Trina from giving away their location, and she just had to hope Clarence would stick by his deal to stay out of Veronica’s way.  Veronica took the opportunity to grab the unattended phone and sneak it into her bag - she could return it later after kindly checking with the bar’s lost and found.  Now, phase two:

“Hey, Trina, the battery on my phone is toast.  Any chance I could borrow yours to check in with the friends I’m crashing with?  I want to make sure I don’t get locked out and have to sleep on the Brooklyn curbside.”

Trina answered with a “No problem,” as she checked the table for her phone, then her bag.  With panicked eyes, she cried, “I could have sworn I just had it!  Where could it be?!”

Veronica tried to calm Trina down, “Don’t worry about – I’ll track it down for you, I doubt it’s gone far.  You know me, I’ll get it.  ‘Veronica Mars and the case of the missing cell phone.’”

“Thanks, Veronica” the histrionic Trina said, relaxing as quickly as she had flustered.  “I know I can always count on you.  That phone is my lifeline, I don’t know what I’ll do without it.  But here, let’s make sure you’re not sleeping in the streets.”  Elbowing her towering paramour in the ribs, Trina asked, “Erik, can I borrow your phone?”

 “What for?”

Trina must be used to Erik’s inattention, she didn’t find it at all unusual that Erik would ask about a conversation Trina had right in front him.  “Veronica needs to call the friends she’s staying with.  Make sure she doesn’t get locked out.  Her phone is dead and I can’t find mine right now.”

“Yeah, ok.”  Erik agreed reluctantly, taking out his phone, unlocking it and handing it to Trina.  Trina promptly handed it across the table to Veronica.

“Thanks, Trina!  Thank you, Erik.  I’ll just duck outside out of the noise quick to make sure I have a place to stay.”  Veronica acknowledged, as she indecorously humped her way out of the booth, slid through the crowd and out the heavy bar doors to the sidewalk outside.  The substantial doors did cut out the revelry of Larry’s bar quite effectively, and Veronica was left hearing only distant traffic noises – honking, the remote whine of an ambulance, and the occasional cursing.  Veronica stepped out into the night, tiptoeing around the rivulets of spilled beer and other fluids mixed with shattered glass on the walkway, and used Erik’s phone to call Mac.

“Mars Investigations.”  Mac answered.  It was amazing how professional Mac could sound to everyone but Veronica.

“Mac, it’s me.”  Veronica answered, putting the phone on speaker and scrolling through Erik’s pictures and text messages.  
     
“I’m calling from Erik’s phone, so I’ll have to be quick.  This guy is super creepy. Like, bad haircut with an air bolt gun creepy.”  No photos in the last two days.  Didn’t mean anything – Erik’s partner could have been the one to take the ransom shot of Lilly. 

“If I have him share location with you, can you keep track of him?”  Veronica asked, going through Erik’s text messages.  A bunch of texts to an “Alex Sebastian” went back and forth around 2 p.m. yesterday about a meetup.  The ransomer, perhaps?  No picture or other info in the contact, and Erik’s terse style seemed to carry to his electronic communications as well.  She screenshotted the messages and sent them to Mac, along with Alex Sebastian’s contact info.  Veronica promptly deleted both outgoing texts to Mac after sending them.

“Got your texts, Boss.”  Mac reported.  “Yeah, hit location sharing, I’ll let you know where he goes.  Fair warning, I can get you the building and that’s about it – GPS isn’t so good at pinpointing specific apartments or telling me which floor someone is on.  You’ll probably still have to tail him on the ground, but I can make sure you don’t lose him.”

Veronica quickly had Erik’s phone share location with Mac, and set the sharing to last for a week.  Hopefully Erik wouldn’t check his settings in that time to discover it – most people didn’t.  After a week, the status would delete and Erik would be none the wiser - Ta-daa! A magician does have to be careful against revealing her secrets. 

Veronica was running out of time.  A quick scan of sent e-mails didn’t show anything that jumped out, but Veronica didn’t have time to look further and struggled with the weighty doors to Larry’s bar, forcing her way in.  As Veronica walked back into the bar, she did one last check of Erik’s alarm to see what time he got up – he had a recurring wake-up at 8 a.m.  Well, at least she would get some sleep before following him tomorrow morning. 

Veronica put Eric’s phone into her bag as she stole her way back through the crowd and up to the side of the bar, dark water pooling under her feet as she stepped on a black rubber mat, spiked for traction.  She held out Gilda’s corporate card, put on a dazzling smile and leaned forward a bit to get the bartender’s attention.  Even in Veronica’s sensible, non-cleavage shirt, it seemed to do the trick - the man behind the bar finished with the current customer and then made his way to Veronica with alacrity.  Sometimes it was good to be a girl.

“A Budweiser and a vodka-cranberry for my friends.”  Veronica ordered.  “And your lost-and-found box, please.  I’m looking for a phone.”

...

Halfway between eleven and midnight, Trina’s wrap party started to disperse.  Veronica had stuck by Trina’s oversized suitor for the night, which had the unexpected benefit of keeping all the other undesirable male attention away.  Erik’s malevolent penumbra must have scared away the lesser predators - as long as she stayed in his shadow she didn’t need to hear about how nice her shoes were from strange men who felt the need to touch things.

Most of the  _Hair_  band were making their way to an after-party hosted by Trina, but Erik begged out early and planned to go home to Brooklyn.  Perhaps a rendezvous with Alex Sebastian?  Trina seemed to have enough of a group not to miss Erik, and said her goodbyes. If Erik was as cheap as Veronica expected, she had a sure-fire way to find out where he was heading.

 “Hey, I’m staying with friends in Brooklyn too!  I’ll pay for a cab.”  Veronica offered.

Something flashed across Erik’s eyes, though whether it was gratitude or avarice, Veronica couldn’t tell.  Either way, he agreed to the cab ride as readily as anything he had done that night, other than drink beer.

“Yeah, great.  Thanks.”  The taciturn giant said.

Veronica walked out of the bar next to Erik as Jared Leto crooned over the speakers about A Beautiful Lie.  Stepping out towards the street corner, Veronica searched for a taxi that had the center beacon on, showing availability.  The sky looked bleak and overcast, cloud cover swirling overhead with the promise of rain that Trina had mentioned.  The stars were almost never visible through the Manhattan light pollution, but the near-full waning moon of last night was completely obscured by the roiling veil overhead.  The million lights of New York skyscrapers and restaurants provided and alternate starscape, lower down and casting an artificial fluorescence on the cars whizzing past Veronica.

Veronica was able to hail an oncoming cab, flagging it down and then pouncing on it before a scavenger made an opportunistic lunge on the open transport.  Erik lumbered along, following Veronica’s trail and tailing her into the yellow car as it started tolling them.

“Two stops,” Veronica lead.  “Both Brooklyn. His first.”  By Veronica offering to pay, that meant Erik would have to get out first.

“Crown Heights.  Utica Avenue at President.”  Erik volunteered.  Veronica recalled that he lived on President Street in Brooklyn, but couldn’t check the exact location without using her phone - the phone Erik thought was dead.  Sometimes Veronica outsmarted herself - but the information she had gotten from Erik’s phone was worth the inconvenience of being out-of-pocket for the duration of a cab ride.  Veronica could rely on her wits and her memory- she usually did anyway.

“So, Erik, I heard you gave the ladies quite the show today.”  Veronica offered, trying to pry some information out of Erik.

Erik held his hands in front of his chest, and cracked his knuckles, one-by-one, in order.  He did it quickly, pressing each of his knuckles down with his thumb in turn until the finger gave a soft audible pop, followed by an intricate roll of his wrist giving each of those a much louder crack as well.  Given the speed with which he performed the feat, and relative quiet of his knuckles, Veronica figured this for a nervous habit rather than any attempt to intimidate.  Was he embarrassed about losing his loincloth, or nervous about other things he was hiding?

“Yeah, that wasn’t how things were planned.  I’m just glad the cops didn’t shut the show down.  No cheers from any ladies - I’m just glad they didn’t laugh outright.”  Erik answered.

Veronica looked at Erik as if he were a horse that had started talking all of a sudden.  It wasn’t far off - Erik had the size and coloring, and had been almost as talkative as a Clydesdale before this.  Her surprise must have registered to the big man.

“Sorry if I came across rude before,” Erik apologized, “I have a hard time hearing when there’s a lot of ambient noise, and crowds kind of make me nervous.  I do the best I can at bars and try not to step on people or spill my beer all over everyone.  The idea of another crowd of people at Trina’s place was more than I could deal with tonight.”

Well, that certainly put a different spin on the evening so far - maybe Trina had found herself a gentle giant.  Veronica resolved not to be so quick to stereotype, but still needed more from this now-nuanced Erik Marshall. He may have stopped being a troglodyte for a few minutes, but he still could have kidnapped Lilly.  In fact, if he could be charming, it was even more likely that he could lure her away and kidnap her.  Cassidy Casablancas has been a generally sweet, nice guy - but it hadn’t stopped him from killing 12 people and raping Veronica.  Veronica wasn’t going to let any supposedly nice guy stop her from doing what she needed to do - rescue Lilly Welles.

“Demophobia seems like it might be a problem for someone in the performing arts.”  Veronica stated blandly, referring to Erik’s fear of crowds.  Veronica didn’t know what Erik was about, and if he was willing to talk about this then Veronica would let him - it would build trust and Veronica would get a feel for his personality.  She could steer the conversation back to Erik’s alibi, or lack thereof, later.

“I do fine on stage, I’m not IN the crowd, and they’re all quietly sitting.  Even audience participation stuff like Hair is ok - they usually don’t come at you all at once.  I like audience interaction, actually- it’s one of the best things about doing the puppet stuff with the kids.”  

“So, these are puppet shows with, like, 6-year-olds?”  Veronica asked.  Mac had said it was tweens and teens, Veronica was picking up the earlier conversation, showing interest and feigning ignorance in the puppets.  Maybe now that they were out of the bar, Veronica would get more useful information on how Erik may have met Lilly.

“No, actually, these are mostly middle schoolers.  It’s not like sock puppets - more like Muppets.  Believe it or not, 12-year-olds relate much better to a trash-talking piece of felt than a 30-year-old telling them to use condoms and that crack is whack.  I’ve had a bunch of kids come up after shows and say how much they enjoyed it.”

“Wow that does sound great. Much better than the obligatory PSAs we had.” Veronica pronounced. “What schools do you go to? I have a friend who teaches at Quaker Academy of Brooklyn, and she was telling me earlier that they’re looking for innovative programming like that.” Veronica preferred to keep Jackie’s name out of the conversation, in case Erik was a kidnapper.

“Yeah, we actually did QAB not too long ago. Great audience.” Erik replied. That was probably about as good as Veronica was going to get about Erik making contact with Lilly. Veronica couldn’t show Erik a picture of Lilly - in addition to being too risky to let the suspected abductor know that Veronica was investigating the case, the picture was on Veronica’s phone, which remained off-limits this cab ride.

“ _Hair_ must have been a really different experience from that type of work.” Veronica said, leading the conversation back in the direction of where Erik was supposed to be yesterday. “What did you feel about doing that?”

“Well, yeah, it’s different. But at the end of the day, if you feel like you’ve reached out to someone – affected them a bit, that’s the goal.” Erik waxed philosophically. “That’s why I like live theater – you get to see the people you’re performing for. With movies it was much more removed - like writing a message in a bottle and maybe sometimes getting a message back that someone liked what you did.”

“Well,” Veronica said appreciatively, “you certainly seem committed to your craft. Trina was telling me you killed it out there in the finale today, and that you were even better yesterday.”

Erik did another routine of cracking his knuckles, hands still in front his chest, before lying to Veronica, “Yeah, yeah, both great shows.” So, Erik was defensive and willing to lie to a near-stranger rather than admit he had missed yesterday’s show – Veronica hoped Mac was having some luck tracking down Alex Sebastian, because right now Veronica was very curious about yesterday’s meetup. 

“Trina really had a great idea with this one.” Erik continued. “She was really in her element, though I could have lived without playing Claude to her Jeanie.” He added a bit ruefully.

“Really? She seemed to think that the casting was fantastic – that your chemistry carried the show.”

“Have you seen _Hair_?” Erik asked doubtfully. “Claude isn’t into Jeanie at all. It’s all in her head. Jeanie’s pregnant, and wishes it were Claude’s, but it’s not. And Trina made it like a grand romance - it was weird. But you know Trina, right, you’re practically her sister-in-law? Trina doesn’t listen to anything she doesn’t want to hear. I’m actually kind of glad the show is over.”

It sounded like problems in Trina Echolls’ paradise. Which was sad – Veronica was starting to like the guy, and if Erik wasn’t a kidnapper, he actually seemed like a decent fit for Trina. They both loved theater and letting Trina talk. 

But, it all came back to whether Erik was a kidnapper. Right now, things were looking bleak. Erik had a past with Duncan, a connection to Lilly, and a motive for money. Worse, he had no alibi, but instead he had a reason to be defensive and lie about his secret meetup. If the only thing keeping Erik in New York was Trina, it didn’t sound like there was anything keeping Erik in New York at all.

…

The cabbie pulled the car over at Erik’s destination and slowed to a stop, letting Erik push open the door and shamble into the night.

“Where next?” the cabbie asked.

“Give me a second, I need to call my friend to check something – keep the meter running and I’ll throw some extra on the tip.” Veronica called back, as she dug her not-dead phone out of her bag and called Mac.

“Hey Mac, Erik just got out at President and Utica – that match his address?”

“Thanks Veronica – I’ve been tracking him on my phone, so I know where you are. Yeah, he just went home.”

“Ok, Mac. Any luck on Alex Sebastian?”

“Well, there are 24 Alex Sebastians in New York, and I’m not sure which one it is. None have a Facebook connection with Erik, or even with any of Erik’s online friends. Any idea where he may have met with Erik? I can pull NYPD cameras and we might get lucky.”

“Sorry, Mac, no idea. You saw what I saw, just the text messages. I’ll talk to Mike Vulcan at the NYPD about maybe doing a trace, but if Erik is our guy he’s probably going to need to meet this Alex person tomorrow. I’m going to be back here for 8 a.m., New York time, which is 5 a.m. for you lazy left coasters. Just keep doing background checks and maybe call it an early night. Get some sleep. I could use you keeping an eye on Erik’s movements tomorrow morning and we also really need that SoS list once they open for the day.”

“You got it Boss,” Mac said wearily. The nonstop pace of this engagement was exhausting for Veronica, she could only imagine that Mac and Duncan were feeling the pain even worse – at least Veronica had gotten some sleep on the plane.

“Thanks for waiting,” Veronica told the cabbie, “We’re going to the Gotham Hotel – downtown Brooklyn. I’m calling it a night.” 

The driver pulled away and the unnatural lights along Brooklyn’s Eastern Parkway became an unclear smudge. Veronica would go home to her plush hotel, but would get no comfort from it, knowing that Lilly Welles would have to endure a second night of captivity.


	17. A Conversation

Veronica startled awake to the cheery chiming of an incoming Skype call at 3 a.m. The cold dregs remaining from the post-midnight coffee sat in a worn paper coffee cup next to the computer, drying out and ignored.  Veronica moved the decaying caffeine delivery system to an end table, straightened her hair as best she could, and answered the call.

The computer resolved into an image of Lieutenant Logan Echolls, as promised.  She was surprised to see him in his dress whites, complete with a complement of ribbons on the breast, the meaning of which remained a mystery to Veronica after all these years.  The uniform was completely impractical for the middle-of-the-day business of the Navy, and the last time she had seen him so formal was as pallbearer at a military funeral - but Veronica had long ago given up trying to figure out the inner workings of the Navy, and just took it in stride.

“Hey there, sexy mama.”  Logan cheerfully greeted Veronica.  She determined that it was too early in the morning and this call was too important for her conflicted feelings of impending motherhood and Logan’s malapropisms to bother her just yet.  She answered with genuine pleasure in her voice.

“Logan.  It’s good to see you.  It’s been a long couple of days.”

“So I heard.  The jet set detective with the mystery client.  I’m glad you could work your truculent truelove into your schedule.”

Veronica put on a small frown to show her uncertainty with Logan’s most recent self-appointed moniker.  “Not your best nickname.”

“Antagonistic admirer?”  Logan suggested.  Veronica continued to show her quizzical displeasure as Logan’s wordplay fell short.  That one held a bit too much uncomfortable truth.

“Belligerent baby-daddy?”  Logan tried.  Veronica showed outright disgust at that effort on Logan’s part and said a flat-out “No.”

“Hawkish honey, then.”  Logan laughed, obviously pleased with it.  Veronica laughed appreciatively, and repeated it back, trying to clear the last vestiges of her power nap from her eyes and her head.

“Hawkish honey.  I miss you. It’s good to see you.” Veronica realized that she must be exhausted, she usually didn’t repeat herself like that. She’d have to force herself to take some rest before the morning, make sure fatigue didn’t cloud her judgment.

Logan rejoined.  “I miss you too.  Where foreplay fails us, wordplay will have to suffice.  I talked to my CO about shore duty, and it’ll take a few of months to rotate me off the  _Truman_ , but I should have an extended tour in San Diego once I get there.  I figured better to get me there for a while, even if it takes a bit to transfer.”

Veronica thought about how much she could reveal over Skype, and how constrained she was in discussing Duncan.  She felt there were some things Logan deserved to know.

“Yes, definitely.  I’m not even in Neptune right now.  Sorry about the last-minute travel - I’m doing a big favor for a friend from law school.  And you’ll never guess who I ran into while I’m out here!  Your old high school roommate.  It was a real blast from the past, let me tell you.”

Logan didn’t display any shock at this revelation, as if running into Duncan Kane were the most normal thing in the world.  Maybe he just hid his surprise behind his japes and jokes - Veronica could certainly understand that response.

“My old roommate, huh?  My blood brother and confidante.  What’s going on in the soap opera of his life?  Evil twin resurface?  A brain transplant gone awry?  Or has he just gone full Howard Hughes and locked himself in a hotel penthouse?  Oh wait, that last one was me.”

Well, thought Veronica, a dead wife, a kidnapped child, and the return of an ex-lover all sounded pretty soap-operatic to Veronica, but weren’t fit for this audience’s consumption.  “Actually, Logan, we were just chatting, and I’m pretty sure he had a last word with your dad, if that counts as soap opera fodder.  I’m not sure, though.”

That was as close as Veronica could get to voicing her strong suspicion that Duncan had Aaron Echolls killed.  Logan seemed to understand and actually smiled widely at this.  It was no secret that, despite conflicted emotions over his father, Logan was happy to have Aaron out of his life.  “Ah, brother-man does come though.  I knew there was a reason I loved that man.  I should get him a fruit basket the next time I see him.  Not manly enough? Stogies maybe?  What did he say when you told him about you and me?”

Veronica felt a little embarrassed at this.  In fairness, focusing on the missing daughter didn’t leave a lot of time to discuss Veronica’s dating life, but Logan had been Duncan’s best friend, Veronica his high school sweetheart - she could have mentioned they were seriously dating, even if she omitted the pregnancy.  “Umm... it didn’t come up.  Things have been a little hectic.”

“Ah, well that will make mentioning this next part a little awkward then.”  Logan said wryly.  Then, after Logan made some hand motions, the overblown strains of an ‘80’s ballad started coming through Veronica’s speakers.

“ _Love lift us up where we belong...where the eagles cry... on a mountain high..._ ”

Veronica’s eyes held lambent tears, though whether it was from strongly repressed laughter or overwhelming emotion, she couldn’t tell.  Logan looked at her through the miles and the electrons, and spoke sincerely.

“Veronica, we can’t always control what the future will bring, but I know that I want my future to have you in it.  I hope that you feel the same about me.  Veronica Mars, will you marry me?”

Veronica started to cry, and not from laughter.

“Logan ...”

“You should also be aware,” Logan said with a bit more of his usual irreverence and a bit less of the atypical sincerity he had used for his marriage proposal, “that this proposal also included a Pinkie Pie My Little Pony stuffed animal sent to your office with a diamond ring attached to her neck, and a note that says ‘Do not open until Lieutenant Echolls says so.’  Your trip kind of ruined that surprise- I hope your dad doesn’t get the wrong idea.  I want to marry into the family, but I  _am_  particular about which Mars I get.”

“Logan, I don’t know what to say...”

“Well,” responded Logan earnestly, “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

Veronica cried joyful tears for a few moments, thinking of what life with Logan and a child would be like.  How good it would be to have him, how hard it would be to raise a child, and what Veronica would do for work for the rest of the pregnancy.  For the rest of her life.  There was no way to keep doing what she had been if they were to get married and have children, certainly not in the near future and maybe never again.  The hard choices she had made coming back to Neptune four years ago, what she had resolved to make her life going forward, were being asked to be undone.  Who she was, would have to be undone. Even if Logan paid for everything and Veronica didn’t have to work, she couldn’t picture herself as a housewife.  That’s just not who she was.

“I want to, Logan.”  Veronica cried.  She wiped the tears from her eyes and lost a bit of the ecstatic glow that Logan’s grand romantic gesture had instilled.  “Can we talk about it when you get to Neptune?”

“That’s not a yes.”  Logan pointed out.

Veronica sniffed and cleared her eyes of the last of her happy tears.  “It’s not a no.”

“Charge ahead and never-look-back Veronica Mars has never been known for sitting on the fence.”  Logan commented. In earlier years this might have come across petulantly, but Logan just stated it matter-of-factly.  Veronica had a fleeting thought that everyone matures eventually - except maybe Logan’s friend Dick Casablancas.

“Yeah, that’s certainly true.”  Veronica admitted ruefully.  “And it’s gotten me into no small amount of trouble sometimes.  This is different.  I don’t want to screw this up.”

“That’s fair.”  Logan conceded.  

Logan and Veronica looked at each other from opposite sides of the screen.  Veronica wished she could bring him here now, hold him.  She would never let anyone push her into making a decision she didn’t want, but if she and Logan were going to have a child together, they would need to be able to make decisions together, as adults.  Grand romantic gestures were all well and good, but they didn’t pay the bills or change the diapers.

Logan also obviously looked like he was trying to figure out where to go from here, so it was surprising when he broke the silence.

“Did I ever tell you why I’m in the Navy?”

Veronica broke herself out of her train of thought, and looked at Logan intently as he continued.

“It’s not because I like punching things.  Though I do.  It’s not because I like protecting people, that I feel like defending people gives my life purpose and function.  Though it does.”

Veronica interjected, “you said it saved your life, once.”

Logan smiled, pleased that Veronica had cared enough about his life story.  It was ridiculous- as if Veronica could have ignored or forgotten the details of the most emotionally weighty discussion they’d ever had.

“Yes.”  Logan said smiling, though his eyes still held a distant pain.  “It did.  But this is about the how, not the what.  

“I could have left the Navy.  Merc companies, private security firms - I even got an email from Clarence Wiedman asking if I would be interested in coming to Kane Software.  I stayed.  Do you know why?

“The Navy saved my life because the Navy is my family.  These men, they’re my brothers.  Some are older brothers, and they look out for me.  Some are younger brothers, and need me to look out for them more.  They’re there for me and I promise to be there for them. 

“Do you have any idea how badly I needed this family?  I’ve been alone since I was 16.  After mom died, I was left with dad and Trina.  Dad was dad, and I’m not sorry he’s gone.  Trina, I love like an adopted sister who’s never showed me an ounce of kindness.  I found out I had a half-brother later, but I’ve never even spoken to him and he hates me.  Do you know who I had left?  I had Duncan Kane, and I had you.  

“Did you know that you and Duncan were the only ones who cared about how I was doing after my mom died?  You and Dick, bless his simple loyal heart, were the only ones that stuck by me that horrible summer after, when everyone thought I killed Felix.  After my house burned down, Duncan was the only one I could turn to - Trina couldn’t even be bothered. And then Duncan runs off to who knows where, and you dump my sorry ass and leave for Stanford.  You two were the only family I had left, and you left me behind.  I was  _alone_.

“So, the Navy gave me purpose and gave me family.  It did save me, and I owe the men and women here everything.  But the reason I’m telling you this little confessional, is because you’re my family too.  You never stopped being my family ever since the day you held me while I cried for my dead mother.  Even if sometimes we lost our way, we did find each other again.  Family is the most important thing to me, and it’s been impossible to split between two groups of people I love, but we’ve made it work.

“But now, with a kid coming, you have to know my priorities.  You and the kid come first, the Navy comes second.  The Navy saved my life, but if we have a kid, a new person WE are responsible for, that’s the most important thing.  I had a shit dad and I promised myself I would never be like him, even as I grew up exactly like him.  So I can’t promise I’ll be perfect.  I can’t promise shit won’t happen.  The only things I can promise are that I will never raise a violent hand against either of you, that I will protect that child- and you as much as you’ll let me - that I’ll work on being a better dad than I had, and that you and the kid come first.”

It was stunning.  Logan was famously reticent to speak of his past, but Veronica knew that Aaron had been abusive - she had seen firsthand the violence Aaron was capable of inflicting when he assaulted one of Trina’s deadbeat boyfriends, and had experienced it herself a bit too closely when he tried to cover up killing Lilly Kane.  Logan had lived with it every day - his heartfelt monologue made Veronica understand a bit better his motivations, the inner workings of his broken spirit.  It was as intimate as she had ever felt with him, and wished now more than ever he were there, that he would always be there.  
“But what about me?”  Veronica asked, “should I just sit at home all day watching _Law and Order_ reruns with a kid?  That’s not me - I’d go crazy in 6 months and the child would turn into an alcoholic loner just like Mommy and Grandma.”  Veronica meant this as a worry of what she could turn into and a criticism of her own mother, and only after saying it remembered that Logan’s mother had her own alcohol issues.  The remark was more caustic than intended.  If Logan was hurt by it, though, he gave no indication.

“You’ll have to figure out what you want - I can’t tell you what to do, and I know you well enough to know that it would end badly if I tried.  Maybe you can figure out how to be a mom and a PI - you’ve redefined the word ‘impossible’ enough, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised to see you do it again.  Maybe you go legit - FBI, Sheriff’s office.  Maybe you take the bar and prosecute some bastards and show compassion to poor movie star’s brats who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.  We need all the help we can get.”

“Yes.”  Veronica said, and started to cry again.

“Well, I think I’m doing well enough, lately.  It’s been like, four years since I’ve been accused of murder.”  Logan replied.  
“I meant yes, I’ll marry you.  And we might need all the help we can get, but I’ll be there for you.  The rest - we’ll figure out.”

For the second call in as many days, Logan’s face broke into an ecstatic smile, and he turned to someone offscreen and shouted out, “She said yes!”  followed by answered cheers and catcalls.  It was horribly cliché, but Logan’s unrestrained glee at Veronica’s response was genuine.  Given what he just said, it was unsurprising that he wanted to share this moment with his brothers-in-arms, his family.

Once the raucous noise on the other end died down a bit, Logan tried shouting to Veronica over the background of boisterous sailors.  “Ok, well, I think we might be having a bit of a celebration here tonight, and I’ve run far over my stolen time slot.  Worth it!  I love you - talk soon!”

“I love you too, Logan.”  Veronica replied as Logan signed off.  The transition from loudly shouting Navy men to the quiet of her 17th floor hotel room was jarring.  Veronica felt simultaneously hopeful and uncertain about the future, and far too anxious and excited to go back to sleep.  Despite the previous long day, Veronica sat down and went through Duncan’s client list, checking biographical information, and seeing what ties each had to Neptune, to Duncan’s past, and might be willing to kidnap a child to advance his own ends.


	18. A Chase

Veronica sat behind the large plate glass window of a Dunkin’ Donuts, sipping her hot coffee at 8 am. Literally right after ordering it, she had thought to ask the person behind the counter whether pregnant women should drink coffee - she just got a blank stare in response.  Veronica’s heart fell when she checked on her phone, saying it should be under a cup a day.  There was no way she was getting through this morning without a java jolt.  Maybe the midnight coffee could count to yesterday?  Veronica had been pregnant for two days and already screwed it up.  Since Veronica hoped to make this coffee her last today, she savored the caffeiney goodness while she waited for Erik to come out of his apartment building down the street.  

The coffee shop was the ideal location for a stakeout - across the street and down the block from Eric’s apartment.  The sky remained mostly overcast, but the clouds had broken enough that the window, on the sunny side of street, was glaring up and made a one-way mirror until you got close.  Plus, it’s not like there was anywhere else.  In California, Veronica could park somewhere and stay in the car - here a person sitting in a car was more obvious than the throngs in the streets and stores.  There were no nice abandoned lots, even in the farther reaches of Brooklyn here, and if she snuck up to a rooftop, she wouldn’t be able to follow her quarry.  The only choice is the best choice.  Veronica had added a Yankee hat pulled low over her face, which should keep her unrecognizable as Erik walked by.  The change in hats didn’t mean anything other than the Yankee hat made better camouflage, and there was a certain poetic justice in busting the kidnapper who used a Yankee hat with his own trick.

Veronica entered the kind of Zen waiting state she sometimes used during long stakeouts. Veronica relaxed her mind, but kept her eyes on Erik’s doorway and listened to the classic rock playing on the coffee shop’s speakers, currently Carlos Santana’s “Smooth.”  Stakeouts were boring.  Interminable hours of waiting and trying not to fall asleep, and it was all wasted if you had to pee at the wrong time.  Veronica didn’t expect this particular stakeout to take hours – despite the family lore that great-great Uncle Eddie had owned a roulette parlor, Veronica didn’t like to gamble if she didn’t have to. She had stacked the deck in her favor pretty well. But the need for sleep had also gotten a big head start with Veronica’s bare minimum of power naps last night.  As much as Veronica hated cold showers, she had used one to shock herself awake before leaving the hotel.

About 8:20 Erik lumbered out the door of his building, wearing jeans long enough to cover his sapling-sized legs and a worn t-shirt for the band Rush, a crimson star still livid on the front of the black shirt.  He had showered quick from his 8 a.m. wake up and dressed just as hurriedly - a good indication he was on his way to meet with someone, likely the mysterious Alex Sebastian.  Before he met with Alex, he looked to be making a stop first - he crossed the street, even though the subway and main avenues were in the other direction. Now, across the street, he was walking in Veronica’s direction.  In fact, he looked to be heading directly for Veronica and the coffee shop!  Of course - guy wakes up, first thing he does is head for the closest coffee.  It makes perfect sense and sticks Veronica in a bad predicament- she can’t be seen!  

Veronica felt a sense of rising panic and quickly thought through her options.  Most times she could lie her way out of the situation, but there would be no way Erik would lead her to either Alex or Lilly after a chance encounter.  No way out the front door without being spotted, either.  Erik was bearing down on her and would spot her soon.  Veronica had to avoid Erik - fast!

Veronica hooked her bag with an outstretched arm as she dashed for the obvious exit - she ducked into the bathroom, slammed the door and locked it behind her.  Hopefully any other customers would attribute the urgency to an overfull bladder and not the avoidance of the hairless yeti stomping through the front door in search of sustenance.  Veronica could hear muted sounds through the door of the cramped unisex bathroom: the murmur of people ordering coffee and the mechanical response of outdated cash registers shuttling their printers back and forth, fabricating receipts for the morning rush.  Then there came a clear clarion as a tiny bell rang, announcing the entrance of Veronica’s subject, trapping her in the piss-soaked windowless box Veronica had fled to.   It smelled like someone had diarrhea earlier that morning and the staff had been too busy making donuts to clean it more thoroughly - Veronica had read that pregnant women had a greatly heightened sense of smell and she could believe it as she was subjected to olfactory torture.  She tried to take shallow breaths and was distinctly reminded of the E String Killer - a case her dad had worked where a guy suffocated women by locking her into a claustrophobic amplifier case.  Veronica just hoped Lilly Welles was in a better situation than Veronica found herself.

Veronica texted Mac frantically - she didn’t want to call for fear of having Erik hear through the porous doorway, and to cut down on the number of inhalations she had to take in her imprisoned cesspool.  

“@DD EM is here!  Hiding in bathroom lmk when he leaves”

The phone shuddered in response to Veronica almost immediately.  Mac responded with a quick “Copy” to acknowledge that she was on the other end. Veronica had to keep herself from breathing a sigh of relief - a coughing or retching fit would be sure to draw attention at the worst possible time.

But timing didn’t seem to be Veronica’s side today anyway, as the door jumped and rattled on its hinges, followed by an angry bellow on the other side of the thin piece of wood,

“Hey, open up!  I gotta piss like a racehorse!”

The voice was an unfamiliar man.  Didn’t he have a job or something to go to?  Who voluntarily used a public restroom in New York?  Given that Erik had recently left his apartment with his own toilet, it was unlikely he would need the bathroom.  Guy probably had a bladder the size of a hot air balloon anyway.  So Erik wouldn’t come in.  But if the angry man on the other side of the door forced Veronica out, she was dead.  

“Hey, c’mon already!”  He yelled again, punctuating it with more pounding on the flimsy barrier.  The door shook and jumped at each hit.  “You’re holding up the bathroom!”

The murmur of voices Veronica had heard before grew, as the man started a commotion with his yelling.  She could hear disbelief and complaining in the coffee line clearly, as people turned to look at the contentious man beating upon the door.

And then, from on the other side of the door, Veronica heard the clerk she had bought the coffee from ask, “Are you ok, miss?”

Veronica had to respond- the last thing she needed was for this to escalate even further.  If the clerk thought there was an actual medical issue, they’d pull Veronica out and expose her to Erik immediately.  Her heart was pounding as much as the door had been, worried she might actually have a medical issue if she couldn’t breathe more.  She tried to mask her voice as best she could and replied, “just give me a few minutes, ok?”

Veronica jumped as the door shook again, pounded with a heavy fist from the other side.  The man obviously seemed unsatisfied by this answer.  

Then Veronica heard the best thing she could hope for, the clerk spoke to the angry pisser, “I’m sorry, sir.  She’s pregnant and might be a while - you may have to find another restroom.  There’s a McDonalds around the corner.”

There was audible grumbling on the other side of the door, followed by hurried stomping and the ring of the bell announcing the opening of the front door.  The complaining from the line died down and the clacking of the cash register could once again be heard through the bathroom door.

Veronica decided that the close call had woken her up more than any amount of coffee could.  Veronica found a relatively clean part of the wall to lean against and waited for her thumping heart to calm down, breathing slowly and not-too-deeply.  After a few moments, heart still pounding, Veronica’s phone trembled as Mac texted her, “EM on the move.  North on Utica.”

Veronica clutched her bag and burst out the bathroom door, taking a deep breath full of the smell of sugar, fresh coffee and, most gloriously, clean air.  The nearest subway stop was a couple blocks north at Utica and Eastern Parkway, and was Erik’s likely destination.  It also meant he was about to drop off Mac’s grid - the subway stations themselves mostly got cell phone reception, but the trains had no WiFi and there was no way to tell where Erik was going unless he was line of sight.

Veronica charged out to Utica Ave and spotted Erik trundling down the sidewalk, his head sticking out over the crowd mostly heading northwards with him.  Veronica dove into the current of people, pressing her way forward through the pack to catch up to giant.

Erik turned the corner ahead of Veronica, falling out of sight.  Veronica hugged the building and poked her head out slightly to see around the way before turning the corner herself. Erik was nowhere to be seen, but the stairs down to the Utica Ave subway yawned downward, with the entrance marked by a cloudy green globe-light, left dim in the wan morning sunlight.  Veronica carefully tread halfway down the stairs until her waist was about level  with the roof of the next floor down, then bent to peer down from roof level to the entrance turnstiles before committing to go down all the way.  The Yankees hat would obscure her otherwise noticeable blond mane, and the rest of her would be obscured by the pitch of the stairs.

Veronica had managed to make up the distance on large man, he had just finished swiping his card and shuffled through the squealing one-way gate toward the train.  Utica was a terminal station, so there would be a train waiting downstairs at one of the two tracks, getting ready to pull away once the schedule demanded.  If Veronica were to keep following Erik Marshall, she would need to see which car he entered, and sit in the neighboring one.  It would be tricky to stay close enough to see him, but not have him see her - hopefully he wouldn’t look around too much and Veronica could use her small size and nimbleness to hide in the crowd behind him - he was tall enough to be hard to lose.

Once Erik started his descent from the gates to the tracks, Veronica scurried up to gates and swiped through herself.  She repeated her stairway surveillance routine on the way down to the track and saw Erik’s towering form prewalking towards the front subway car.  Native New Yorkers who knew the layout of their destination station frequently walked to the part of the train closest to their desired exit, provided they weren’t making a mad dash to catch the train right in front of them.  It appeared Erik had a reason to want a train car towards the front.

Veronica skittered down the stairs and into the first open car of the waiting train.  All the train doors were open, and the train was relatively empty waiting for the signal to start towards Manhattan.  The doors between train cars were supposed to remain closed, and were heavy enough to sprain your wrist if you weren’t careful opening then.  Veronica walked to the front of her car, peeked her head out to see Erik still walking ahead of her, now in front of the very front car; Veronica scampered out of her car and into the next car up.  When she tried this again, Erik was no longer visible, having presumably entered the train.  Veronica then walked to and entered the second car casually, walking all the way forward in the car and peering through the small windows between the train cars.  She spied her target, sitting in the center of the car, knees far apart, taking up almost three seats.  The traincar’s only other occupant was a petite woman reading a Stieg Larsson novel, pressed to the extreme end of the seat by Erik’s “manspreading.”  His legs weren’t an issue in the relatively empty car, but he’d seriously piss people off if he kept doing it as the rush hour crowd tried to jam into the train on future stops.

Veronica decided the best place to perch would be by the door of the train, not the window between cars. Once the rush hour crowd filled up the train, the window would be useless and Veronica would trapped at the front of the train car, unable to see if Erik got out.  People stood in front of the train doors all the time - if they were polite (which could happen) they would step out of the way to let people in and out when the doors opened, sometimes making way by temporarily stepping back onto the platform. Stepping on and off the train constantly wouldn’t draw any attention, but it would be exhausting and Veronica would get jostled by every oncoming commuter.  It should mostly work and Veronica would see when the suspected kidnapper left the train, but some stops had the doors open on the opposite side, so it wasn’t perfect.

Veronica texted Mac just in case, “On 4 train tailing EM.  Text me where he gets off.”  If Veronica missed her quarry’s exit, Mac would at least let her know in time to get off at the next stop and maybe catch back up.

Veronica leaned against the closing subway doors, just like they always tell you not to, already weary and saddling herself in for that most dreaded and enervating experience - the weekday morning commute from Brooklyn to Manhattan.

...

Veronica had endured forty-five minutes of rude New Yorkers as the train approached Union Square station in Manhattan.  Veronica had thus far managed to avoid getting outright stepped on or body checked, but her shoulder was starting to ache from all the people knocking into her bag, a bulky encumbrance holding her umbrella and telephoto camera, among other things.  As the train stopped at the sprawling underground complex known as Union Square, Veronica continued her routine of ducking, diving and sliding between people getting on the train just in time to see the enormous form of Erik Marshall start to exit his subway car.  Rather than retreat to the safety of her own car, Veronica boldly stepped all the way onto the platform and quick-stepped over toward the center of the platform and behind a support beam.  When it was clear that Erik was taking the stairs up to the main station area, Veronica melded into the crowd and followed along, her hat brim covering her face except for occasional checks on Erik’s progress.

Based on the soaked oncoming pedestrians, Veronica surmised that the promised rainstorm had finally come while they were underground.  As Veronica reached for her crook-handled black umbrella, her phone vibrated- likely Mac confirming that Erik was on the move.  Veronica would have to check it later when the press of the crowd wasn’t forcing her along behind Mr. Marshall.

Veronica trailed the likely kidnapper through the maze of tunnels beneath 14th Street, until he stopped short before the stairs leading outside the southeast exit, joining the unhappy knot of folks that were unprepared for the inclement weather and a few sodden souls attempting to dry off.  Veronica quickly sidled over near the wall and stopped to rummage in her bag.  This let her stay distant from the now-stationary suspect, and also gave her opportunity to check that her camera was safely protected in its case and quickly scan her phone - just a message from Mac saying “Usq.”

The rain was an unwelcome complication.  It caused the already-surly and distracted New Yorkers to be even surlier and blocked their line of sight with umbrellas.  This made them much more likely to run into the petite detective and either make a scene or lose her quarry.  Even worse, the rain and the umbrellas would cost Veronica a lot of visibility, and she wouldn’t be able to rely on Erik’s height to track him - Veronica would have to get right up to Erik once they got outside.  Veronica did not relish the idea of having to stay so close to the teen-stealing titan, but she would need to be practically on top of him to either see which door buzzer button he hit or follow him to the apartment of his destination.  The only silver lining to this raincloud was that Erik would have a hard time seeing her.  It was scant comfort.

Erik seemed to have screwed up his courage to brave the weather and lumbered up the stairs, Veronica slipping up to take his spot at the bottom of the steps and unfolding her umbrella open while watching the man climb.  Erik’s steady climb slowed once he reached the top, apparently talking to someone.  Veronica started up the stairs slowly so she could see who Erik was talking to - it was an umbrella salesman, the kind that popped up like mushrooms in any New York City rainstorm.  Veronica pretended to fidget with her bag further and slowed her climb so that Erik and the salesman would finish their transaction before she reached the top.  

The rain had transformed the streets of New York from a crowded and smelly unpleasant experience to a barren and squishy unpleasant experience.  The view around Union Square was open, and there wasn’t much foot traffic as people ran for cover from the precipitation.  Dirty gray water ran in rivulets along the curb, cleaning up urine and the errant piece of feces to escape the pooper-scooper laws, only to pool up into dirty lakes at the street corners, where the water drains were blocked by empty bags and discarded coffee cups.  Veronica was less than pleased with a second cold shower in the day, and was glad that her umbrella was larger than the shoddy junk Erik was surely buying - the large umbrella kept her options open in case she needed to use her camera, and in a pinch the crook-handled end could be useful for all sorts of things.  
Erik grabbed his overpriced rain prophylactic and opened it up immediately.  Veronica wasn’t sure why he bothered - it kept his head dry enough, but within seconds of stepping out, the small umbrella was letting him get soaked from the nipples down - his black shirt going from worn and graying to pitch dark with the rain.  Erik pelted forward into the slick streets as fast as his long legs would carry him, seeking to outrun the rain and unintentionally leaving Veronica behind. Veronica whirled her legs as quickly as she could behind him, staying close enough that the splash from Erik’s Sasquatch feet hitting the wet ground would spray Veronica’s knees.  Veronica did her best to keep from sliding around or running right into Erik, and readied herself to obscure her face with the umbrella and slide past him if he stopped short - there was no way she could brake in time to avoid hitting him if he suddenly paused.  She was too close.  They were going too fast.  The rain-slicked streets offered only the most treacherous of footing.  
Stopping did not seem to be on the agenda anyway. Erik may be regretting his choice of t-shirt as he was buffeted by cold raindrops and was intent on hurrying along.  He ran pell-mell to the east along 14th Street, Veronica hot on his heels, though fortunately still without his knowledge.   _Stomp-splash_.  A spattering of droplets sprayed from Erik hit Veronica’s legs.   _Stomp-splash_.  Through the rainy streets of Manhattan.   _Stomp-splash-jump!_  Erik used his long legs to hurdle over the foul puddle at the street corner and along the Third Avenue crosswalk.  Veronica followed seconds later, barely clearing the puddle herself, and pausing a moment to keep her balance to avoid falling into the unsanitary pool, then dashing along to keep up with the waterlogged kidnapper.

Veronica successfully tailed Erik another block east, thinking the entire time that there must be a better way, that she would never be doing this in Neptune. It almost never rained like this in Southern California, and if it did people had the good sense to drive around in cars, not splash through polluted streets soaking themselves.  She would never have a high speed chase through the streets of Neptune - she could stick a tracker on her subject’s car and follow from a safe distance, certain that with Neptune’s lack of subways and larger buildings that the GPS would lead her to the correct building, and that her target’s need to park the car would buy her time to catch up from a safe distance away.  Tailing someone closely or at speed usually just gave away that Veronica was following - she would almost never do it.  The thought that a subject would speed away or use evasive maneuvers without knowing they were being followed was usually ridiculous- here it was just another rainy Wednesday.

 _Stomp-splash.  Stomp-splash._  Erik kept going east, Veronica staying as close as she dared in the nerve-wracking game of chase.  At Avenue B, Erik turned south into Alphabet City, Veronica having to stutter-step to keep from crashing into Erik as he slowed to take the corner.  Alphabet City, so-named because of the idiosyncratic letter avenues instead of the usual numbers, was a throwback neighborhood filled with 4-story walkups, tiny storefronts, and “secret” bars/clubs that weren’t so secret.  After a couple short blocks on Avenue B, Erik suddenly opened a door on the right and jumped into a narrow building with the number “213” above it.  Veronica skid and slid to the left, around the closing door, slowing down enough to see Erik pushing the intercom button for “3F” as she passed. Erik’s back remained to Veronica as he pressed the button, his hair more than a little wet and dripping - the umbrella had been even crappier than Veronica thought.  Between his bad angle and the water that was likely in his eyes, Veronica literally slipped past him.  
Once Veronica regained her feet, she kept going to the corner, now at a more normal pace, where she excavated her phone and texted Mac.  “213 Ave B 3F.  Xw Alex.”  The request to cross check the address with anyone named Alex Sebastian was probably redundant - Mac knew her business.  But Veronica knew her business too - good preparation served her just as well as quick thinking, and usually prevented the need for it.  Mac’s response was immediate.  “On it.  TY for address, GPS shows 211-215”  
Veronica was gratified that on-the-ground work had gotten an address where GPS couldn’t - if no Alex Sebastians lived in those buildings, then following Erik would have been the only way to know where he was.  But Veronica wasn’t done, not by half.  The GPS could say where someone was, but it was Veronica’s job to see what, or frequently who, he was doing.  Without hesitation, Veronica crossed the street and walked up to the building opposite 213, tucking her bag under her arm to protect it from rain as best she could, and closed her umbrella.  Within seconds Veronica was soaked head-to-toe, the Yankees hat thankfully keeping the worst of it out of her eyes or from plastering her hair in ways that would obstruct her vision.

Soaked but determined, Veronica approached the old metal fire escape attached to the side of the building and extended her umbrella, crook-side-up, towards the bottom of the extendible fire escape ladder.  Veronica wasn’t quite tall enough to catch the ladder, even with the umbrella, so she leapt up to hook the bottom of the ladder in a move that was effective, if not graceful.  Veronica wrapped her hands around the rain-slicked metal rungs and clambered up the ladder and two sets of the rickety metal stairs up to the third floor, level with Erik’s destination.  The small building across the street only had two apartments on each floor, designated “F” and “R”, based on Veronica’s glance at the intercom - Erik should be directly across from Veronica, in the front of the building.  
Veronica opened her umbrella again, and lay stomach-down on the floor of the 3rd story fire escape - her clothes were already saturated and couldn’t get any worse, but the cold metal along the front her body was doubly chilling due to her wet shirt.  Veronica ignored the discomfort and didn’t let it affect her work – she adjusted the umbrella over her prone form so that her head was sheltered from the rain, and the apartment across the street mostly saw the black umbrella, before taking out her camera.  

At first, peering through the gap between the fire escape and the umbrella, Veronica only saw Erik though the open window, wandering around bare-chested, his soaked shirt already removed.  He didn’t have any tattoos on his upper body.  Veronica clicked a few pictures, making certain to get his face clearly.  Soon, another figure came up to him, much shorter with strawberry blond hair.  A woman.  A lover?  A third partner as well?  Veronica continued to take pictures as the woman put her hands on Erik’s chest, then proceeded to hungrily kiss him.  That certainly proved the first theory true, and this job was starting to look like many of her others - catching a cheater.

Veronica’s bag buzzed next to her - Mac texting no doubt.  Veronica was all set to send Mac a picture of the mystery woman when she saw that she had just gotten one from Mac.  Beneath the picture of the girl in her early twenties was another message, “Alexandra Sebastian, lives at 213 Ave B.  I don’t think this is your man.”

Veronica could add Sebastian’s name to Erik’s list of playmates.  After all that, Erik Marshall isn’t a kidnapper - he’s just another guy who’s shitty at communicating with his girlfriend and cheats on her. 


	19. A Failure

Veronica stepped into the 84th police precinct in Brooklyn wearing a new shirt and jacket, recently purchased from large retail store near Union Square.  After Veronica’s fruitless chase of Erik Marshall, she had given up her last outfit as destroyed - rolling around on the floor of a wet fire escape would do that.  She didn’t even feel guilty charging the new duds to Duncan - it was much quicker to pick stuff off the rack on the way than to stop by the hotel, and Veronica had done what she had needed to, even if she had come up empty.  After slogging back to Union Square in defeat, Veronica picked up the new shirt, jacket, and some socks, then hopped a cab to the 84th.  The cab ride had been blissfully dry and warm, giving Veronica a chance to get some of the water out of her pants.  Time was a factor and a quick shirt was one thing - buying women’s pants that actually fit wasn’t something that could be accomplished quickly, so Veronica made due with her moist jeans.

A quick check with Mac had revealed that nobody on the QAB staff list seemed to have any connection to Neptune, CA.   The IT guy had worked at Kane Software at one point, but only in the New York office - he had been Wiedman’s prime suspect, but had been cleared by Wiedman’s team.  Mac was halfway through the remainder of the Neptuner list and, if they weren’t exactly clean, there wasn’t anything making them worth a second look for kidnapping so far.  SoS still hadn’t provided a list of their people yet.  Mac was considering going through the teachers’ backgrounds a second time to see if she had missed anything, as they would be the most likely to get Lilly to trust them.

Having doffed the Yankees hat, and with her spiffy new shirt and dry socks, Veronica didn’t appear like a drowned rat.  Despite her downtrodden demeanor at coming up empty on Erik Marshall and everything else, along with being just cold and tired, Veronica tried to keep up appearances and keep a bright smile on as she walked up to Detective Mike Vulcan’s desk, but the smile felt a bit fragile.  The observant detective made note of the rain-soaked pants, and seemed intent on continuing yesterday’s innuendo.

“I didn’t know I could make a woman that wet.  Anything in particular, or just my charming good looks?”  Mike asked.

“Sorry, not for you.  Oh, you have charming good looks alright,” Veronica rejoined flirtatiously “but to do this, I needed a really big man.”  Mike looked slightly offended, but he took a long look at Veronica and apparently decided not to push further - Veronica had set the limits once and he seemed to respect that he could flirt but not proposition.  He was earthy, but not stupid.  Veronica appreciated both his observational skill and discretion- some witty banter was nice and distracting, but she just did not want to deal with an unwelcome advance right now.

“You mind if I sit?”  Veronica asked.  “I was chasing a lead and got caught in the rain.”

“Yes, of course.  Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you standing.”  Mike said, oddly solicitous.  Maybe Veronica’s smile showed more fragility than brightness - Vulcan had gone from sex jokes to practically pulling out a chair for her remarkably quickly. “I’ve got one tape that might have a better view of your guy, but not by much.  Other than that, I came up empty - your blackmailer went into the residential part of the neighborhood and must have caught a ride from there - the locals didn’t think he lived there.  I did manage to catch two shoplifters and make some shopkeepers happy by saying some hellos, so at least the brass won’t bug me about the little trip.”  Mike reached into his drawer and pulled out a flash drive with the promised surveillance.

Veronica took the proffered drive and tried to respond without letting her disappointment show, “Thanks Mike, I really appreciate it.  I think the blackmailer had inside knowledge to steal the computer and crack the password - I’m working though the client list for my employer.  If something else comes up that you can help with, would you be willing?”

“Yeah, I said I’m in.  I don’t think coming up empty on knocking some doors really helped you out here.”

Veronica was too polite to agree, it would only hurt his feelings to admit that truth.  Without a visual of the ransomer, she had no good leads - her best bets to find one were either from the school or the Neptuner list.  Right now she had nothing but a dry shirt, a lost girl she was no closer to finding, a big waste of time, and Mike hadn’t helped.  But it wasn’t his fault, and she could use a hand from a smart and reliable NYPD officer in this.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Mike.  You saved me lots of time, and did it better than I could.  You know this job, most times you come up empty.  I really appreciate what you did, and I’ll be sure to give you a call before anything interesting, ok?”  That was the truth too, and a far nicer one than just saying he turned up nothing useful.  Duncan wasn’t the only one who could make people feel appreciated.  Mike seemed satisfied that Veronica thought well of him and the job he did.

Veronica got up and got ready to go back to the Quaker Academy of Brooklyn for more leads.  At this point Veronica’s best suspect was one of the first she had ruled out - Astrid.  Veronica was still convinced that Astrid was an unlikely culprit and it would be a waste of time to tail her.  Time that Lilly Welles didn’t have.  

...

Veronica walked through the fortress-like entrance to Quaker Academy of Brooklyn, which she now knew to be far from secure.  Her large crook-ended umbrella dripped sullenly after Veronica folded it in the entranceway and wrapped it in one of the plastic bags the school had hung by the entrance as a courtesy.  The umbrella did a much better job keeping Veronica dry when she didn’t close it while outside.

As she went to check in with Effie, Veronica saw a white man exiting the main office.  He was average height with a seemingly familiar face, but Veronica couldn’t figure out where she knew him from.  He hadn’t been in the “get to know the teacher” book or Mac’s profiles.

“Tim?”  She asked.  “Tim Foyle?”  Even as she said it, she knew it couldn’t be him.  Her old TA from freshman year should still be in prison for the murder of Dean O’Dell, but the man in front of her could have been his twin. His round face gave way to a sloping forehead topped with black hair, combed forward and giving off a polished sheen. His black pants were so tight that Veronica would have thought they were women’s clothing, if not for the fact that they obviously were tailored for men’s proportions. Tim’s doppelganger wore a loose flowing shirt that remained completely dry, so he hadn’t been out in the rain recently.

“Perdon?  No, mi nobre es Miguel.  Miguel Vargas,” the familiar-looking man responded.

“Lo siento.  Mi error.”  Veronica responded fluently.  She usually didn’t reveal her skill in Spanish when questioning people - nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!  This time, though, it seemed like it would set Miguel at ease.  “I’m sorry Miguel - you look just like someone I used to know,” Veronica apologized.  “Totally my fault.”

“Gratheas.  I guess I just have one of those faces,” Miguel answered, his light baritone tinted with a Castilian accent.  Miguel was probably a native of Madrid. Some people thought the Castilian accent sounded fancier, even though it made you harder to understand to almost everyone – those people were probably the type that hired at high-class schools.  Veronica had to admit, Miguel did sound pretty when he spoke English, though oddly formal with a bit of a lisp.  “Forgive the Spanish, it is a force of habit.  It helps the students to be immersed, so I usually only speak Spanish on campus,” Miguel answered, and started to move on.

If Miguel was the dedicated Spanish teacher, that almost certainly meant he had been Lilly’s Spanish teacher last year, and he must be an SoS contractor to have been left off the school list.  Miguel immediately became the top person of interest for Veronica’s case.

“¡Espere!  Wait, Miguel!  You teach Spanish here, yes? I was hoping to ask you a few questions about the QAB program.  Have you had lunch yet?  My treat.”

Miguel stopped and turned, probably sizing up Veronica to see how rich she was.  They probably ingrained a reflex in teachers at private schools to be nice to affluent parents - contractors that split time between schools probably more than most, since they could tutor kids on the side without violating any school policy.  Besides, even with as well-paid as he surely was, it’s hard to pass up free lunch.

“Bueno,” Miguel answered.  “But the school cafeteria is perfectly fine.  It seems the weather is quite unpleasant out, and I have to teach a class after lunch, so I cannot go far.  I’m usually booked, but my Wednesday lunch date is not here today.”  Miguel responded, indicating the front office.  Whoever he usually ate with, he had checked with the office to find out they weren’t here.

“My name is Susie Leigh,” Veronica introduced herself, picking a name from Duncan’s client list that she had been reviewing earlier that morning.  “I’m looking at the school to see whether to send our Charlie here - his father is so insistent on boarding school in Europe, but it would be ever so much nicer to have him near at hand, provided we can find a school that meets our academic standards.”  Veronica could pull off high end rich person if she needed to - she had been a Future Business Leader of America at one point, after all.  Veronica was very glad she hadn’t spent the rest of the day in her ruined shirt - she never would have pulled off ‘rich parent.’

“Ah, yes, Ms. Leigh.  I’ve heard so much about you.  I hope you don’t mind the impudence, but you look quite a bit younger than I had been expecting,” Miguel answered.  Figures- there were 8 million people in New York, but the really rich ones must all know each other.  Veronica hoped she could still pull this off - she had picked someone with a kid around Lilly’s age just in case, but, of course, not everyone had a kid at 17 like Duncan - the real Ms. Leigh was a good bit older than Veronica herself.  Veronica counted herself lucky that Senor Vargas didn’t actually know what Susie Leigh looked like, and bulled ahead.

“Oh, you’re a flatterer Senor Vargas!”  Veronica exclaimed.  “I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to my yoga instructor.  Please, lead the way, I’d love to see more of the school.”

Lilly’s Spanish teacher proceeded to the QAB cafeteria which, as advertised, was actually pretty good.   Veronica got two containers of hot soup and bread - she was chilled to the bone from the morning’s run through Alphabet City, and really wanted something warm.  Also, in the event she needed a distraction or unobtrusive weapon, “inadvertently” spilling the steaming liquid on Miguel would isolate and distract him.   Once they sat down, the first bowl wouldn’t last long, and Veronica didn’t think she would have any problem finishing the second if she had to.

“So, Senor Vargas, are you full time faculty here?”  Veronica lead as she ate her first soup as quickly as possible while still maintaining the veneer of rich lady-dom.

“Sadly no, QAB does not have need of further full time language instructors.  I am here three days a week, teaching immersive language skills - the pay is excellent and the teaching is rewarding.  Most of my pupils are quite advanced for their second language, usually approaching fluency.  The full time staff have most of the introductory language courses, with some exceptions.”  Miguel explained.  
Veronica wanted to focus on the Spanish-fluent students and bring the topic around to Lilly Welles.  The reason Veronica had picked a client of Duncan’s in the first place was to believably bring up Lilly Welles in conversation and gauge Miguel’s reaction while giving him the least reason to be suspicious if he was the kidnapper.  
“What do the students do in your class if they are already fluent in Spanish?”  Veronica asked.  
“What do students do in English class when they are already fluent in English?  We discuss books, and philosophy, and writing style.  The children here are very kind, and do not make fun of my accent, though it is not so common in America.  We read classic books, and if the students are advanced enough as a group, then we read Gabriel Garcia Marquez.  If they are older and up for it, then perhaps Camilo Jose Cela, but that is a little dark for eleven-year-olds.  I would love to start with the poets, but that is a dream for later.”

“That is quite impressive, Senor,” Veronica said, with what she hoped was an appropriate amount of appreciation. Veronica watched Miguel carefully and kept a hand ready by the loaded soup container, as she prepared to make her move. She continued on:

“My friend Teddy Welles was talking up the program here, which is why we’re looking at QAB at all. Have you had the opportunity to meet his daughter, Lilly Welles?”

Miguel’s face broke into the same warm smile that Regan Rutledge had used when she heard Lilly’s name. He definitely recognized Lilly, but did not seem at all concerned or secretive about it.

“Ah, Lilly. An exceptional lady.” Miguel smiled happily as he answered in his Castilian tones. “Her loss is your gain, today, I think. She is my usual lunch date, when I am here – she is not here today, so I am free to talk to you.”

Veronica’s hopes sank. Despite matching the general size and shape of the ransomer, Veronica felt confident she could clear Miguel off the suspect list. If he had kidnapped Lilly, it was quite a commitment to the performance for him to confirm Lilly’s absence with the front office, especially since he wouldn’t have expected anyone to know or check who he had lunch with. That, along with Veronica’s read that he actually liked Lilly and wasn’t trying to hide something, brought Veronica crashing back to square zero, effected by a series of dead ends. Veronica knew she needed to persist, and was determined to keep working the problem - hopefully in time for Lilly. Even if Miguel wasn’t the kidnapper, he obviously knew the inner workings of the school and who Lilly spent time with quite well. An open ended invitation to talk about Lilly might help Veronica get useful information. 

“That is very caring of her to spend three lunches a week hanging out with a teacher. I don’t think I would have done that at her age, she must be quite the young woman.” Veronica said.

“Indeed,” Miguel agreed. “I must admit some selfishness in our lunches, as I enjoy conversing with Miss Welles, and I would hate for her to lose her fluency with the language – practice makes the master. I was sad to lose her to Gory this year, and even a few conversations a week in Spanish are helpful in keeping it fresh.”

“Lose her to Gory?” Veronica asked. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, pardon for the misunderstanding, I did not mean anything bloody.” Miguel clarified. “The name of one of our introductory Russian language teachers is Gorya Sorokin – Gory for short. I believe a fulltime teacher is technically the primary instructor, but Gory spends so much time with the children, I think of it as his class. I simply meant that I lost Lilly, as she is taking Russian this year, and not Spanish.”

Veronica’s face blanched, the blood rushing toward the core of her body as she felt a profound state of shock. Veronica’s body felt her life was threatened, and reacted accordingly. Gorya Sorokin – the man who ruined her life. The man who videotaped her without permission, the man who released the tape that Veronica had to live down every day, the man who had cost Keith the Sheriff’s office protecting Veronica. He was here! He knew Duncan’s daughter! This creature, who had been a blight upon Veronica her whole adult life, was connected to this case. There was no doubt in Veronica’s mind – Gory had kidnapped Lilly Welles. Veronica was ready to give full head to her fight or flight response, not sure whether she was fighting of fleeing. But Veronica needed to know one more thing.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Veronica empathized, her rich lady façade cracking past the breaking point. “I’d also like to hear Gory’s take on QAB – is he here today?”

“Yes, of course he is here. It would be very unusual for him to miss a day – I just saw him not so long ago,” Miguel replied.

Miguel’s answer shot Veronica out like a bullet from a gun – she was jumping up and leaving her remaining soup behind as she charged out the school with a bare acknowledgement of Miguel. She couldn’t let Gory see her – he would know her on sight and that would only put Lilly in greater danger. “Thank you very much – you’ve been a great help.” Veronica rushed through her thanks as she bolted down the hallways and out the school door and towards her hotel. Veronica would need the car at the hotel to carry Lilly back after rescuing her, and there was no time to waste.

Veronica knew it in her soul - this time, Veronica Mars was going to save Lilly.


	20. A Rescue

Veronica was halfway out the door of Quaker Academy of Brooklyn, ready to sprint to the Gotham Hotel and her car.  She knew who had taken Lilly, every fibre in her body was shouting to go! Go! GO!  But Veronica pulled her herself short, practically somersaulting in how quickly she turned about, caught her breath, and made her way in the direction of the main office instead.  Running and fighting weren’t going to save Lilly Welles - being smarter than Gorya Sorokin and Clarence Wiedman were.  Veronica didn’t know where she even had to run to - she needed more information, and she thinks she’s laid enough groundwork with Effie to get it quickly.

Veronica was calling Mac even as she walked to the main office - there was no sense in running, but no sense in wasting time either. 

“Mac!”  Veronica exclaimed.  “I’ve got our man!  Get me everything on Gorya Sorokin.”

“Gorya Sorokin?”  Mac confirmed uncertainly. 

“That jerk from Hearst?”  Mac asked with a bit more outrage.

“The one whose dad kills people?”  Mac asked with more than a bit of fear.  Mac had been the one to crack the encryption on Gory’s confession in college - she had been privy to all the bloody details.

“Yes,” Veronica put simply.  “Him,” as Veronica hung up on her friend and walked up to Effie.  Veronica rarely hung up on someone so rudely, especially a friend, but she had to press Effie for information.  Fortunately, because Mac was a friend, she would understand.

“Hi, Effie!”  Veronica greeted, putting on a friendly face.  Veronica could have worked PR - she didn’t have the poker face of her dad, but she could put on a customer services-level smile in an instant.  

“Good afternoon Veronica!”  Effie greeted back with what seemed to be characteristic cheer.  “Do you think we’ll get Lilly back soon?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Veronica replied, and for the first time she actually believed it.  “I’m back for a bit of follow-up.  Nothing SoS-related, I promise!  They’ve been really terrible at getting me a list, but I think I can get what I need anyway.  Do you guys give out parking permits for the school lot?”

“Of course we do!”  Effie said helpfully.  “Parking around here is impossible.  Most of our teachers take the subway or walk, but I give out the parking permits.  Do you need a permit?”

“Actually,” Veronica drawled, “I could use the list of permits that you’ve given out.”

“It’s just a list on a clipboard - we don’t do anything high tech.”  Effie replied dubiously, bringing up the clipboard from her desk and handing it to Veronica.  Fortunately, Effie appeared to have much better handwriting than Keith.

“Names, dates, car model, license plate.”  Veronica said, listing the expected information from the clipboard.  “Perfect, thanks Effie!”  Veronica said, taking a picture of the first page, making certain to focus on the line that said Gorya Sorokin.

Veronica texted the picture with Gorya’s car information to Mac and immediately called her to check in, while juggling her umbrella and running out the front door of QAB.

“Mac!  What do we have so far?”  Veronica asked, speeding down the slick grey sidewalks of New York.  First stop, parking lot.  Veronica did a quick sweep and found the black coupe that was listed as Gory’s, taking out the sole GPS tracker from her bag and sticking it in the rear wheel well.  It was good to be prepared. Once the tracker was set, Veronica pressed hard through the empty streets to get to the hotel quickly, the rain clouds casting a pall over downtown Brooklyn, the humid air not carrying enough oxygen.  A school groundskeeper was huddled under a crenellation, trying to tuck himself as close to the schoolbuilding to keep himself dry; he puffed a cigarette and blew the smoke out into the afternoon, further clouding the oppressive air.

“Ok,” Mac replied, clearly typing and reading while she talked to Veronica.  “His apartment is in Sheepshead Bay, south Brooklyn.  Lives by himself - divorced, no kids.”

“Divorced by 30?”  Veronica asked.  Even out of breath she needed to confirm this, and took some satisfaction in Gory’s misery.  Gory was no Trina Echolls - schadenfreude definitely worked here.  Veronica reveled in his downfall.

“He’s 33 actually, but the point stands.  No other current addresses or storage units on file, but he might have gotten one with cash.  Former address was with the ex, in ...Red Bank, New Jersey.  She is ... yes, she’s back in California.  The place in Red Bank is in her name, but it’s on the market.  MLS has Gory listed as Seller’s agent - guy is too cheap to hire a broker.  Sending you his cell phone number from the MLS - you think he has her stashed in Jersey?”  Veronica saw two addresses Mac had texted to her in addition to the phone number- Brooklyn and Jersey.

“That’s the most likely,” Veronica coughed as she chugged through the hotel parking lot and hit the car keyfob looking for Duncan’s rental car.  A house in New Jersey was much bigger, there would be less concern that a screaming 12-year-old would attract notice.  

A car behind Veronica flashed its headlights and beeped, unlocking.  Veronica dove into the driver’s seat, started the car, and put the New Jersey address Mac had texted her into her phone for directions.  Catching her breath for a second while she made sure she wouldn’t hit anyone pulling the car out, Veronica managed to breathlessly push out a question to Mac.

“What about the car?”  Red Bank was over an hour outside the city according to the directions, practically the middle of New Jersey.  Gory could have taken Lilly at 3 and driven to New Jersey and back by 6:20, but it was close. It was also odd that he would come back to New York, making a city hideaway more likely.

“No car listed in his name, the parking permit at QAB is for a car listed to Leonid Shelby, also living in Sheepshead Bay. Maybe a friend.  I asked PC for access to the Monday bridge and tunnel cameras yesterday, I’m looking at the Verrazano bridge now and will let you know if I see the car.  If he went to New Jersey, it was by the bridge or the Holland Tunnel in Manhattan. Where are you headed?”

Veronica sped out of the parking lot, trying to think.  “Highway first - quickest way to either South Brooklyn or Jersey.  Still thinking.”  The traffic in New York was stutter-stop, running at maximum speed for short distances, then stopping short for a red light.  Veronica flooring the pedal whenever she could was perfectly normal for the midday traffic.

Veronica thoughts raced as much as her car engine and her thumping heart.  The place in Red Bank would be much better for hiding a girl, but was much farther away, and potentially a bigger waste of time.  The apartment was closer, but would Gory really stash a girl where she might scream and get a neighbor’s attention?  Gory was at work now - this might be her only opportunity to break into the apartment while he was out.

And there was always the third possibly- they could both be dead ends.  Maybe Gory knew of some abandoned property somewhere in Brooklyn, they were few and far between, but they existed.  A storage unit was even less likely than Gory’s apartment - storage units in New York weren’t isolated, they were housed in large buildings where Lilly could easily make enough commotion to get noticed if she were unattended for long periods of time.

“He have a boat?”  Veronica asked.  “Sheepshead Bay is right by the water.”

“Nothing on here shows a boat” Mac reported quickly.  Her voice betrayed that she was multitasking and distracted.

“Jersey.”  Veronica said definitively, her voice betraying none of the uncertainty she felt.  If she was wrong and Lilly was in the apartment, then this might be a death sentence for Lilly.  Veronica had to go with what she would do if she were the kidnapper - the bigger, remote location was the only one that made sense. 

“Alright, Jersey it is.”  Mac replied.

Veronica tried to eke as much speed as she could, charging and stalling through the city streets towards the highway.  The persistent rain pounded Veronica’s car, and the lack of forward progress was stifling Veronica more than the wet and oppressive atmosphere.  As busy as Mac was, Veronica also needed to figure out how likely it would be for Wiedman to get Lilly first.

“Mac- how come Gory wasn’t on our list?  I get that he wasn’t a school employee, but we should have caught him in your bigger search.”

“Sorry, Boss,” Mac said, clearly still distracted.  “He never was considered a resident of Balboa County - registered address with his parents in West Hollywood during college.  Duncan never had anything to do with Hearst College, so I didn’t check against them.  I’d only get the students who registered to drive, registered to vote, or got a credit card with their on-campus address.  What’s your theory on how he knew Duncan?”

Veronica finally made it to the highway.  Despite the slippery road and talking while driving, Veronica sped along - the nearby buildings a wet blur through the side window.  As unsafe as the driving conditions were, Veronica was more worried about being too late or getting pulled over by a cop.  As she hurtled around the perimeter of Brooklyn, she tried to think how Gorya would have recognized Duncan.

“He didn’t,” Veronica said, with sudden insight.  “Gory didn’t recognize Duncan - he recognized Lilly.  When Gory dropped off the Castle tapes at Jake Kane’s house, there was a huge portrait of Lilly Kane there.  She also had her picture all over the news after she was killed, that would have been Gory’s freshman year at Hearst.  Lilly Welles looks so much like her aunt, it’s obvious to anyone who knew Lilly Kane.  The only reason Lizzie Manning didn’t recognize her is because she already thought of Lilly as Laura’s daughter.  The weak link in the cover story isn’t Duncan, it’s that Lilly Welles looks too much like a famous murder victim.”

Veronica had made it to the bridge in no time, and raced her way over the tenebrous water waiting below the narrow span between Brooklyn and Staten Island.  

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Mac replied. “What if he blundered and grabbed the wrong girl?”

Veronica chortled mirthlessly.  “Oh, Gory made a classic blunder alright - never go in against Veronica Mars when death is on the line.  But I’m sure he checked out Duncan and Laura before committing to kidnapping - he knew he had the right girl.”

Despite Mac’s distraction, she responded quickly.  “Ok, Veronica...  Your mouth is saying _Princess Bride_ , but all I’m hearing is _Zero Dark Thirty_.  Are you planning on shooting this guy and dumping him in the Atlantic, a la Bin Laden?  Because I’m really hoping that death is not on the line here.”

Veronica realized she was taking this too personally, and it was interfering with the job.  The next part she meant to say with a mocking faux-Spanish accent, but it still came out with a hard edge, “My name is Veronica Mars, you ruined my father, prepare to die.”  With a bit more sincerity, she added, “You’re right Mac, sorry.  Save the girl.  Eyes on the prize.  Gory is still at QAB, and I stuck a tracker on his car - can you keep tabs on it for me and let me know where it goes.  I don’t want him sneaking up on me.”

“You better hurry then!”  Mac pitched, in a panicked voice, obviously just checking the tracker for the first time.  “Because his car is on the move!  You’ve got a head start, but not much.  It looks like he’s going on the highway too - I’ll let you know if he follows over the bridge.”

Veronica’s nerves were starting to wear.  She had been running on adrenaline and pure grit all morning - a second high speed chase with a kidnapper promised to exhaust her adrenaline.  At least this time Veronica had a car.  Veronica belted over a second bridge crossing into New Jersey and then felt constrained to slow down to the speed limit entering the Garden State.  Rumor had it that state troopers had speed traps all around the New York crossings, and with the rain they would be doubly tough - as chafing as it was Veronica would stick to the legal limit and avoid getting pulled over.

“He’s going over the bridge now!”  Mac exclaimed frantically.  Well, at least Veronica had guessed the destination correctly.  Now she just had to beat Gory there.  Veronica clenched her teeth and moved along the storm-strewn streets as quickly as traffic would permit, tension mounting as she could feel the pursuit behind her.

“Not that it matters now, but I also found his car going over the bridge on Monday.”  Mac reported. 

“What’s the layout of the house?  What are the neighbors?”  Veronica asked as she zipped forward a bit, then slammed her brakes in a sliding splash to avoid rear-ending the car in front of her.

“It’s one block in from a main road.  Back yard abuts a comic book shop or something, neighbors on either side, just houses like this one.”  Mac provided.  “There’s a fence between the comic book shop’s parking area and Gory’s back yard. Land slopes up a bit from the street – trees in the yards, mostly in the back yards. Standard suburbs.”

“House layout?”  Veronica asked again.  “Is there a basement?  Interior room with no windows?”

“Two stories plus a basement.  Basement entrance is by the rear door.  Looks like the basement has no windows.”  Mac reported.

“How about the neighbors, are they home?” Veronica asked.

“I have no idea, Veronica, sorry.  I’m looking at a real estate listing and Google Maps, not an NSA spy satellite.”

“Alright - I’ll just pick a neighbor based on what I see and park in their driveway, hopefully they don’t come home before I’m done checking the house.  How’s the pursuit looking?”

“You managed to pick up a bit of time on him, he’s still on Staten Island.  You’re going to have to be fast, though,”  Mac answered.

“Fast is my nickname, just you watch, and let me know when he gets close.”

“Veronica, I knew you in high school, and I don’t think it was ‘fast’ that they called you.  But I’ll text you when he gets close.  Make sure your phone is on vibrate.”

“Copy that,” Veronica replied, before focusing on the road. Once bitten, twice shy.  She was able to make good time for a few more miles through the dreary afternoon, the grey clouds leaching the color out of central New Jersey, making it appear like a monotonous sepia strip mall. She was glad Duncan had thought ahead to get the car - and doubly glad she had followed her instincts to go to New Jersey.  If she had waited until Mac found the car on Monday’s tape, then Veronica would be behind Gory, not leading the chase, and there was no telling what fresh horror he would do to Lilly when he found her.  Veronica was reminded that this was a man who, as Mac pointed out, had a killer for a father.  This was a man who thought nothing of parading in front of Veronica naked, as if all women owed him something.  Veronica kept herself from thinking violent thoughts of Gory Sorokin under that tumultuous sky, but only by focusing on saving Lilly and pressing forward.  This chase wasn’t as physically exhausting as the morning splash with Mr. Marshall, but it was anxiety inducing and emotionally charged to a ridiculous degree.  Veronica burned her stress and anger like a fire, stoking it’s furnace to keep moving, faster, staying ahead of the deadly predator she knew to be out-of-sight behind her. 

Finally, Veronica pulled up to the area where Gory’s old house was.  Veronica slowed down so she could check out the neighborhood.  Parking in the comic store lot would have been ideal if not for the fence - if Lilly was hurt or unconscious Veronica was going to have a hard enough time carrying her, there was no way to do it while climbing as well.  The first house Veronica slowly drove past, to the left of Gory’s, had lights on the ground floor - Veronica passed and continued going beyond Gory’s house.  The house to the right of Gory’s appeared dark, so Veronica backed into the driveway and parked there, running over some grass in her hurry but ending up in the right place - a car in a driveway was much less noticeable than one on the street, and Gory probably didn’t know what his former neighbors drove at this point.  The rental car had New York plates, but Veronica hoped to be in and out before Gory got back anyway.

Veronica dumped the bulky camera and umbrella from her bag into the back seat, and then her phone chargers, the burner phone and some flash drives into the glove compartment - the bag now made a much slimmer encumbrance with just the pepper spray, keys and phone.  Veronica grabbed the much lighter bag and ran with it out of the unlocked car.  Veronica rushed around the front of the car and through the rain, her sneakers sliding on the wet grass across the lawn to the back door of Gory’s house next door.  Veronica attempted to open the door, but it was locked.  No doggie door.  No time to be subtle, either - Veronica searched the ground for a suitable rock, and promptly threw it through the window near the door, into what appeared to be the dining room.  Veronica was pleasantly surprised that alarm sirens didn’t start blaring immediately, but figured the neighbors would be calling the cops soon enough anyway.  Veronica was on borrowed time, but the greater worry was Gory, not Jersey police.  A small part of Veronica’s lawyer brain couldn’t shut off - technically, damaging property in defense of a person wasn’t a crime, but Veronica doubted that the New Jersey police would politely argue technicalities with the woman who threw a rock into a house.

Veronica used her elbow to knock the large jags of glass hanging out of the broken window like bloody teeth, and then put her bag at the bottom of the windowsill to prevent any small shards from cutting up her hands as she climbed through the now-empty window frame. Broken glass crunched under Veronica’s feet as she crept into the darkened house.  As promised, a thick wooden door that appeared to lead downstairs was directly past the dining room.  The door had an unwelcome addition, two sturdy metal buckles screwed into the door and wall, locked closed with an enormous padlock.  And here Veronica had left her bolt cutters in the other purse.

Veronica looked at the door a moment to figure a way past the padlock, then went to the kitchen to look for something large and heavy, and something thin and sturdy. Like all well-designed doors on a staircase, the door opened away from the stairs, so that people opening the door on the way up wouldn’t have to walk backwards down the stairs to open the door. This meant that the door hinges were also out here on the ground floor - where Veronica could get at them.  Breaking the door down would be twice as hard - the door would be supported by both the hinges and the padlock.  On the other hand, if Veronica popped the hinges out, she could kick the door in with impunity - at worst the padlock would act like a hinge, at best it would just snap off under the weight of the door.

Veronica quickly rummaged under the kitchen sink and lucked out, finding a toolbox.  She swiftly grabbed a hammer and a metal screwdriver and scurried back to the basement door.  As she ran, a knife block on the counter caught her eye - on impulse Veronica grabbed a large chef’s knife reminiscent of Lizzie Manning’s out of the block and wrapped it with her already-shredded bag.

Veronica was able to hurriedly pop the metal pins out of their hinges using the screwdriver and hammer - Veronica started on the bottom hinge, which had an awkward angle, but was glad she did when the door noticeably sagged towards the padlock upon removing the second pin.  Veronica was working quickly, but the clock was ticking on both the cops and the kidnapper.

Veronica stood about a foot away from the door and kicked near the hinges as hard as she could - using the ball of her foot to strike the sturdy wood, leaning back and fully extending her right leg for extra power, left leg planted like a post.  The door bent inwards on its makeshift hinge, the padlock dangling like a drunk in need of a cab, and the dark stairs yawning below Veronica. Veronica may not be big, but she knew where to hit so that it would count.

Veronica called down so that Lilly wouldn’t be surprised.

“Lilly?  Lilly Welles?  My name is Veronica Mars, I’m a friend of your dad’s.  I’m here to help.”

Veronica stepped down the stairs, quickly at first where she could see, then slower.  She didn’t even attempt to find a light switch - the switch by the top door would be covered by the door going the wrong way, and Veronica doubted that the darkness down here was accidental - Gory had probably removed all the lightbulbs. Lilly would have turned on the lights if she could have.  Veronica unwrapped her bag, grabbed her phone, and re-wrapped the knife in its temporary sheath - the knife wasn’t for Lilly and it would only scare her if she saw a naked blade.  Turning on the phone’s flashlight feature, Veronica ventured into the unlit basement.

The narrow cone of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the small strip directly in front of Veronica, but making everything else even more opaque.  Veronica descended steadily in her own personal tunnel, her legs and exposed skin feeling clammy in the cool basement from her rush through the rain outside.  Thankful for the purchased jacket, Veronica wondered if she should have kept the umbrella- it would have been ungainly, but Lilly was sure to get soaked on the way to the car.  Nothing Veronica could do about it now.

The slice of basement visible to Veronica was silent and still - the unseen gloom surrounding her was equally silent but seemed to close in her, skittering away only where the flashlight directly pointed.  The basement must be heated at least a bit, since it was cool rather than freezing, but the floor was bare cement.  The ceiling was short enough to reach, a pocked and mottled drop ceiling that was probably supposed to be white, but looked sickly in the dismal lighting.  Veronica forged ahead as quickly as she could, trepidation building on what she would find in Gory’s dungeon.

Turning left at the bottom of the stairs, the beam from Veronica’s hand caught some mostly-empty fast food containers.  Gory had fed her, but it didn’t look like he was particularly concerned about health or cleanliness.  The carcasses of french fry containers gave way to a discolored splotch on the cement, dark in the harsh lighting.  Veronica sped towards the splotch and reached down to touch it - sticky and tacky.  Soda spilled in the pitch-black prison, not blood.  

Farther up, Veronica spotted another closed door - no lock on this one.  Veronica trekked through the darkness and knocked politely on the door.

“Lilly, are you in there?  My name is Veronica Mars, I’m a friend of your dad’s.  I’m here to help.”

The silence coming back from the closed door was deafening, making it all the more startling when Veronica’s flashlight buzzed in her hand.  It was Mac - “5 minute warning.  GTFO.”  The text didn’t convey Mac’s emotions, but she knew her friend would be freaking out a bit right now.  Veronica didn’t have that luxury. Veronica texted Mac back, “Call him w stop pretend QAB.” Veronica hoped Mac understood that she wanted Mac to call Gory after he got out of the car. Maybe Mac could work as a distraction and buy Veronica a few extra minutes – doing phone aliases wasn’t Mac’s strong suit, but she didn’t need to do an interrogation, just get his attention.

Opening the door before her, Veronica saw Lilly Welles, unconscious and shivering on the floor of a half-bathroom, curled in a fetal position on her left side for warmth on top of a thin floor mat.  The small bathroom was slightly warmer than the rest of the basement, and Lilly had no blanket over her thin frame. A couple of large empty fast food drink cups were worn uneasily on Lilly’s right arm, the top arm. The stiff cardboard awkwardly kept the arm mostly straight in the saddest and most slapdash splint Veronica had the misfortune of seeing. Lilly was wearing the same clothes she had been taken in – and her pants from mid-thigh up were caked in dark dried blood. The smell in the enclosed area was heady with the taint of iron and decay.  Whether Gory had simply been uncaring about Lily’s menses or the blood was from something altogether more sinister, Veronica pushed from her mind.  The fragile girl in front of Veronica needed to get out of this hell-hole, first and foremost - time for tears later.

Veronica tried lifting the broken girl, but Lilly weighed almost as much as the petite Veronica. Veronica transferred her bag and phone to her left hand, the light cocked at crazy angles and giving Gory’s abattoir a crazy, off-kilter feel. Veronica managed to stand Lilly upright and throw Lilly’s left arm over Veronica’s shoulders. Lilly did break through her stupor somewhat, and stayed upright, leaning heavily on Veronica for support. If Lilly could move a bit, Veronica and Duncan’s young daughter might stand a chance. Putting her right arm behind Lilly’s waist, Veronica guided Lilly to the stairs.

The stairs up from the basement oubliette were a tight fit for both women side-by-side, but Veronica and Lilly were able to squeeze close and made it up the stairs together. Once back in the dim light of the dining room causeway, the going was much quicker and Veronica steered her stupefied ward towards the rear door. The determined detective was able to awkwardly turn the handle of the rear door by dropping her bag and phone to the glass-strewn floor, getting a small cut on the back of her hand when she cumbersomely retrieved them. And that’s when Veronica ran out of time, as she heard a car pull in front of Gory’s house.

Veronica directed Lilly towards the edge of the house and poked her head around the corner. She saw Gory’s black car parked in the road in front of the house – he hadn’t even bothered pulling into the driveway. Fortunately, he didn’t seem suspicious of Veronica’s car next door, so at least she had a viable escape route. She saw Gory’s brawny figure exit the car and heard him slam the car door from the other side of the house. Any attempt to make the last run to Veronica’s car would probably be spotted, and if he caught Veronica he could justifiably kill her as an intruder and spin whatever story he wanted about Lilly. Wiedman would probably at least get payback on the kidnapper, but that would be cold comfort to the dead Veronica.

Veronica was trapped - Gory may not see them now, but would know that something was wrong once he saw the broken glass in the back of house – Veronica and Lilly were hidden where they were, but wouldn’t be safe for long. Better to keep moving somewhere than wait for certain doom – Veronica shepherded Lilly straight back towards the comic book shop. Hopefully the house would continue to block Gory’s line of sight, and Veronica and Lilly could then sneak along the rear of the properties to her car, praying for the rain and sparse tree cover to obscure their circuitous flight.

A loud phone ring cut through the soggy yard – in a panic Veronica checked her phone. Veronica’s phone remained black and silent, on vibrate as always – the noise breaking through the tense scene was coming from Gory. Gory was still outside, his gruff voice tinted with the Russian accent that had been rampant through many ‘80’s villains of Veronica’s childhood.

“Hello? Who is this?” Gory asked aggressively. 

Gory’s voice betrayed his location - in front of his ex-wife’s front door. His view would be the most obstructed that close to the house, so Veronica marshalled Lilly to stop going towards the back and instead turned right towards the neighbor and escape. Veronica and Lilly frenetically tore across Gory’s back yard and behind the neighbor’s house, Lilly still dazed, but her legs pumping to keep up with the arm behind her and the shoulders beneath her. If Gory was still teaching at the school, he must want to keep up appearances - maybe Mac could distract him enough for Veronica and Lilly to escape. 

“Yes, I was there all last week! I don’t care if Success screwed up the paperwork, just ask that Effing woman behind the front desk.” Gory shouted, close enough to be heard easily even through the sound-dampening rain falling upon them all.

Veronica and Lilly went around the side of the neighbor’s house and, crouching down, behind the rental car Veronica had abused to get them this far. Fortunately, the driver’s side faced away from Gory’s house, but now they needed to enter the car without being seen – a tricky proposition from so close. Veronica could see Gory through the rear driver’s side window of her car – red-faced and irate, his hair, spiky a decade ago, was wet and dripping. Veronica was close enough to make out the details of Gory’s face as he stood before the door to his ex-wife’s house, under a small awning to keep the rain off – his brown hair looked dark as jet with the water dripping from it, now matching his black-rimmed eyes. His angular cheekbones cut through the rain and looked sharper than the glass shard Veronica had sliced her hand on. His bulging neck was interrupted by a bobbing adam’s apple, which looked more like a Macoun with his flushed demeanor extending down from his face. Gory was holding his phone and a grease-stained bag of fast food with one hand, fumbling through his pants with the other – presumably in search of the housekeys. Even though she could clearly see Gory mere feet away, she needed to get Lilly into the car and hope that the keys and phone distracted him enough that he simply would not turn his head. 

The act of slowly opening the rear door of the car was among the most anxious and terrifying moments Veronica had experienced. Veronica’s life, and the life of Lilly, hung on a thread that Gory could look at any moment, but he hadn’t looked yet. As stealthily as she could, Veronica guided Lilly into the back seat, all the while staring through the car window at the man who had taped Veronica in college.

“I don’t have time for this!” Gory bellowed, “I will deal with this later!” Gory removed his hand from his pocket with the housekeys glittering in the false twilight of the rainy afternoon, and pushed on his phone with the newly-freed hand, hanging up on Mac. Veronica watched him intently as he put his keys in the door and turned them.

As soon as Gory committed to entering the house, Veronica sat the stunned Lilly up and buckled her in, closing the passenger door as silently as possible. Veronica would have liked to put a coat on the girl, but if she had a broken arm then it might do more harm than good – Veronica would have to crank up the heat for the ride home. 

Running up to the driver’s seat, Veronica yanked open the door and jumped behind the wheel – dumping the contents of her bag onto the front passenger seat and swiping the car keys from where they fell. Jamming the keys into the ignition and pounding on the gas pedal, Veronica wrenched the car out of the driveway, and pulled up alongside Gory’s car, the ‘driver’s seatbelt’ warning chiming annoyingly the entire brief ride. She could see Gory’s silhouette through the open egress -Veronica grabbed the kitchen knife and jumped out of the rental car. Running around her car, Veronica knelt in front of Gory’s car, mutilating his front tire. Stabbing the tire more than slashing it, Veronica thrust the knife into the rubber as deeply as she could and left it there, racing back to the running rental car even as she saw Gory exiting his personal prison.

Veronica dove back into the car, slamming the door shut, now heedless of making noise or drawing further attention. She pulled away at speed through the rainy afternoon, eyes locked with the kidnapper and extortionist standing by the roadside. The look of utter hate Gory gave to Veronica was matched by the fury and anger Veronica directed at the tormentor of both Veronica and Lilly. Gory’s eyes blazed red and vapor rose from his brutish form, as Veronica hurtled away from the steaming devil.


	21. A Conflict

Veronica Mars drove through the wet streets of central New Jersey, the windshield beginning to fog and the heat cranked to maximum, with an unconscious 12-year-old girl in the back seat.  Lilly Welles had been awake enough to move quickly and help Veronica get her out, and then had promptly passed out, into what appeared an unresponsive state.  Since Veronica was driving and the unconscious girl was seatbelted in the back, Veronica couldn’t really check on Lilly, but Duncan’s daughter was still breathing.  Considering the rain, how cold it had been in the bathroom where Veronica had found her, and the state of her clothes, Veronica was warming up the car as much as possible for Lilly’s sake.

Veronica drove through New Jersey at a much more normal and safe pace than the push to get down here - she was reasonably sure that Gory wouldn’t be able to follow with the slashed tire, and it would be difficult to sic the cops on her in time, now that she was on the move.  Making her way carefully back to the highway in the dark rain, at the first traffic light she had to stop, Veronica called Mac.

“I got her,” Veronica started, getting the most important part out of the way.  “Thanks for the distraction - it was a little too close there, and the call made all the difference.”

“How is she?”  Mac asked, concern obvious in her voice.

“Not good,” Veronica said simply.  Looking at the blood welling out of the cut on the back of her own hand, Veronica said, “we got out mostly unscathed, but she wasn’t in good shape when I found her.”

“What can I do now?”  Mac asked.

“Just sit tight and keep an eye on Gory’s car.  I slashed his tire on the way out, so he shouldn’t be close, but I’d like to know when he moves.  When you called Gory, did you use a burner?”

“Of course, Veronica.  I’m not going to call _the bad guy_  with my real phone.”

“Keep that phone handy - Gory might try calling back.  He still has leverage over Duncan and can blackmail him with his identity.  It’s not as big a payday as a hundred million off of big daddy Kane, but I have a feeling Gory isn’t done yet.  Not with the look he gave me as we left.  I should call Duncan and check in.”

“You got it, Boss.  And Veronica?  Be careful.”

Veronica kept driving, the  _whump-whump_  of the windshield wipers moving in a hypnotic rhythm.   _Whump-whump._  Veronica fought off her exhaustion in the warm car and wiped condensation off the inside of the windshield with her sleeve, driving ahead to get Lilly home.

Stopping the car at the next red light, Veronica opened the glove compartment and took out the burner phone, calling Duncan and setting the phone on speaker next to her so that she could concentrate on driving safely. The highway entrance was coming up ahead, and as Veronica turned onto the highway, Duncan’s phone picked up.

“Hello?”  Duncan’s familiar voice greeted.

“It’s Veronica.  I’ve got Lilly.  I’m driving back to the city with her from New Jersey - I should get there in about an hour.”

“Oh my god, Veronica!  How is she?”

“Not good,” Veronica repeated.  “She’s unconscious in the back seat of the car right now.  The guy who had her -”

“WHAT DID HE DO?”  Duncan roared.  Veronica was reminded that her kind and caring Duncan had a breaking point, and he had a temper.  This was a man who had supposedly throttled his father when he thought that Veronica was his sister.  But Veronica could understand - the only thing that had kept her from using that kitchen knife on Gory was the fact that Lilly needed her more.  Veronica could understand taking extreme actions to protect the people you love.  Veronica could understand wanting payback - Mac had been right, Veronica’s nickname in high school hadn’t been “fast.”  It had been “vindictive bitch.”  But it was better than slut, and much better than victim. Mostly, Veronica tried not to think about what other people called her.

Veronica answered Duncan honestly, with no varnish.  “He kept her locked up without light or a change of clothes for two days.  She had food, water and a bathroom, but that’s it.  Probably broke her right arm, simple fracture.  Almost certainly shock.  Maybe hypothermia.  Maybe rape - I don’t know.”

Duncan boomed out a single word, filled with pain, “WHO?”

Veronica took a small breath before answering.  It wasn’t her place to protect Duncan from the truth, nor to protect Gory from whatever Duncan might do.  Veronica herself would be indirectly responsible for whatever befell Gory. It was a guilt she would have to live with.

“Gorya Sorokin,” Veronica stated “Lilly’s Russian teacher.  He knew your father - they were in a secret society together.  Kind of like the Tritons, but with real power.”

As soon as Veronica finished her sentence, Veronica’s primarily phone buzzed, a text from Mac popping up in the middle of the directions back to New York.  Its contents made her the back of her throat burn, noticing a dire warning. The soaked and exhausted detective felt like ice water was running down her spine.  “Wiedman just emailed his team re Gory.”

Wiedman must be listening on Duncan’s side of the conversation - Veronica had told Mac about Gory at QAB without it registering, so both of their phones should be clear.  Wiedman could have either installed a listening device near Duncan, or force paired Duncan’s phone, using a cell phone interceptor to duplicate the SIM card.  If it was just a listening device, Veronica could text Duncan with the details, but if his SIM card had been copied, then Wiedman would see the texts too.  Veronica would have to leave her distraught ex-boyfriend in the dark, and hope that he trusted her.  Veronica couldn’t text Mac back while driving, but would have to pull over soon anyway.

As much as Duncan had a high opinion of Wiedman, Veronica didn’t want to give him an opportunity to take Lilly away - right now Veronica and Lilly were still off the grid and vulnerable.  

“Duncan, I know this is a lot.  I’ll bring Lilly home to Scarlet Street and I’ll call Dr. Levine on the way.  Just know that everything is going to be ok.  Focus on Lilly coming home.  I’m going to pull over for a second and check that she’s staying warm enough, and then I’m coming to you.  Do you trust me, Duncan?”

“Always,” Duncan sobbed.  His anger had quietly given way to sadness, or relief.  Maybe both.  Either way, Veronica could hear broken, uncontrollable sobbing on the other end.

“Then trust I’ll bring Lilly home.  I’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you Veronica,” Duncan choked, before the sobbing cut out completely, ending the call.  

Veronica drove through the rain, plodding at a safe and steady pace along the highway, looking for the nearest rest stop. After a few interminable miles, a bright blue sign glistened in Veronica’s headlights, advertising a roadside area with gas and food. Veronica pulled inside the mostly-empty parking lot – despite the dreary darkness it was still only mid-afternoon, and traffic was light. Veronica stepped out of the car and opened the passenger door to check on Lilly.

The girl was breathing steadily. Veronica placed the back of her undamaged hand against Lilly’s forehead to check the temperature – the girl wasn’t as cold and clammy as she had felt during the frantic escape, but she wasn’t sweating despite the heat of the car. Lilly had had access to water from the bathroom sink, but dehydration was a serious concern – Veronica took off her jacket and put it over Lilly like a blanket, careful of the embraced arm – Veronica would return the car to a more normal temperature for the rest of the ride, which should help both the now-covered Lilly, and keep Veronica from falling asleep or going effectively blind from the condensation forming in the car. 

Drinking water for Lilly would have to wait a moment – Veronica examined the wheel wells of the rental car and found what she had feared – a GPS tracker. The trick that had been so valuable in tracing Gory had been used against her, almost certainly by Wiedman. If he had tapped Duncan’s phone, then he knew about Gilda’s help, and it was a short step from there to visiting the rental car that had been left unattended for two days. Veronica removed the GPS tracker and brought it back to the driver’s seat with her, pulling in to the gas station connected to the rest stop, behind the only other car gassing up. Fortunately for Veronica, the car in front of her had New York plates – a pretty good bet for a northbound highway in this part of New Jersey. All the New Jersey gas stations were full service, as part of some attempt to bolster the economy or a payoff to a crooked politician, so as the wet attendant started to pump the gas, Veronica got out of the car to go towards the gas station convenience store. On the way, Veronica was able to surreptitiously stick Wiedman’s GPS tracker on the car in front of her, then proceeded to pick up a few bottles of water from the convenience store, one for Veronica and some for Lilly. The gas and supplies were paid for by Gilda’s corporate card – Wiedman might be tracking it, but it was a lot harder to get access to law firm corporate cards than an individual’s, and he already knew she was at this gas station anyway.

Veronica got Lilly to drink a bit of water, careful to make sure the girl didn’t choke. Veronica then sat back in the car, turning the heat down and taking a large gulp of cold water herself – the cold liquid waking her a bit. On her phone, she selected directions for an alternate route that ran through Manhattan, and called Mac, before pulling out of the gas station and onto the highway, moving with a bit more speed and purpose to separate herself from where Wiedman might think she was.

“Mac! Thanks for the head’s up – I think Duncan is bugged, and Wiedman found out about Gory from that. He also stuck a tracker on my car, but I think I ditched it in a way that won’t raise suspicion for a while. Are you sure we’re not being monitored on our end?”

“Honestly? No. There’s no way to do it perfectly. But I’m pretty sure. I’m in the office now, and I swept for bugs – I didn’t find anything transmitting. So now what?”

“Now … I need you to patch me through to Dr. Levine on an emergency basis. The one in New York. Sorry to use you as a secretary here,” Veronica apologized

“Veronica, it’s fine. I am your secretary, remember?” Mac pointed out. Although technically true, it was hard to think of Veronica’s friend and resident tech support in such a limited role.

Veronica continued driving towards the Holland Tunnel and Manhattan, forcing herself to focus on the road and safely getting Lilly back to Brooklyn. Although Veronica had told Duncan Lilly was coming home to the apartment, she needed another destination that Wiedman wasn’t aware of. Another drink of water helped clear Veronica’s head while she waited for Mac to connect her with Dr. Levine – at least Lilly looked to be getting a bit more color in the back seat.

“Dr. Levine, here,” a masculine voice urgently announced over Veronica’s phone. “I heard there’s an emergency with one of my patients needing immediate attention? Who is this?”

“Dr. Levine,” Veronica responded. “My name is Veronica Mars, I’m working for Theodore Welles.” Even though the good doctor knew Duncan’s identity, it still seemed prudent to avoid saying Duncan’s name over the phones. “I have his daughter Lilly and she’s been attacked, she’s in urgent need of medical attention. What hospital do you have admitting privileges at?”

“Brooklyn United Hospital, on Seventh Avenue in Park Slope. It’s a short walk from the Welles’ apartment, I’ll call them immediately and tell them to meet us there.”

“No!” Veronica exclaimed. “I’m a security consultant for Mr. Welles and have reason to believe that his phone is being monitored by people connected to Lilly’s attacker.”

“Seriously?” Dr. Levine asked incredulously. “Look, lady, I don’t know who you are, but I can’t give medical assistance to a minor without a parent present, and that means her father.”

“I’m sorry doctor – of course I want him there,” Veronica tried to explain, “it’s just that I’m concerned about listening devices. Is there any way someone could walk over there with a note?”

“ _Oy…_ ” Dr. Levine grunted, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. “The things I do for a patient…” he added self-pityingly. “I’ll have my wife leave the kids with a neighbor, she can go see Teddy and Laura. Whether she can keep her mouth shut around these listening devices you’re so worried about, I have no idea, but that’s the best I can do. How soon can you get there?”

Veronica checked the directions on her phone. Although the directions were to Duncan’s house, the timing would be close enough – “About 45 minutes.” Veronica answered.

“45 minutes!” the doctor exclaimed. “What, are you stopping for coffee on the way? I thought this was an emergency!”

“No coffee,” Veronica retorted, “just some light traffic on the Holland Tunnel. I’m calling you because I heard you have _special insight_ into the Welles’ family medical history, not because you’re closest. I think your insight and discretion is going to be invaluable in keeping Lilly and her family _safe from harm_.” 

Veronica’s response immediately silenced the kvetching doctor, who remained mutely on the line processing what Veronica said. The best doctors Veronica had known all took their Hippocratic oaths very seriously – if Duncan judged Dr. Levine to be worth confiding in, then Dr. Levine likely held to that oath very strongly. Veronica hoped that the revelation of the complex state of affairs, along with the threat that failing to help would result in harm to someone, would make the family doctor a bit more cooperative.

“Alright Miss Mars,” the doctor said after a while. “I think I understand the situation. I’ll cancel the rest of my appointments for this afternoon and get to the hospital straight away – I’ll make sure to book a private exam room in advance to avoid triage and the ER. I’m heading out now – can you tell me a bit about how she’s doing while we walk?”

Talking with the doctor would help keep Veronica focused and awake, and might be helpful in treating Lilly, so Veronica agreed readily. The doctor’s voice remained professional on the other end, but he was obviously taking the matter seriously and sadness crept through as he asked about Lilly’s blood-soaked pants.

“Alright Miss Mars. I’ll see you at the hospital – Lilly’s parents will be waiting there as well. Let’s see what we can fix.”

…

Veronica wheeled a still-unconscious Lilly Welles into Brooklyn United Hospital, Lilly seated in a hospital-provided wheelchair. The remainder of the trip through New Jersey, Manhattan and Brooklyn had been uneventful, with Veronica’s greatest struggle maintaining focus on the road after the past two days. Veronica had made it here safely, just keeping her eyes on the road in front of her and refusing to be distracted. Veronica hoped that the misdirect to Wiedman had been sufficient.

Veronica walked up to the front desk and asked where Dr. Levine’s exam room was, officially checking in Lilly Welles as a patient. Veronica then brought Lilly up the elevators to the 4th floor, where she saw Duncan, Laura and a short, curly-haired man in a doctor’s coat matching Dr. Levine’s picture. Veronica piloted the wheelchair to Duncan and Laura, who both had tears in their eyes. Veronica’s coat lay in Lilly’s lap, covering the worst of it, but they both looked beyond distraught at the sight of their insensible daughter, crying and hugging her, although she probably didn’t even know they were there.

After a suitable reunion period, the doctor separated Duncan and Laura from Lilly, and directed a nurse to bring her into the exam room – Laura followed, refusing to let Lilly out of her sight. Doctor Levine went up to Duncan and, although he was being circumspect, Veronica’s keen eavesdropper’s ears picked up the words “rape kit.” The tearful Duncan looked at the doctor with a bit more fire and anger than the happy reunion had shown, and gave a sharp nod. 

“Do it,” he commanded.

Duncan, his eyes still full of passion, then walked up to Veronica, “Veronica? Can we talk for a bit? In private? The doctors are handling the next parts, and I would just be in the way.”

“Of course we can,” Veronica replied, as Duncan lead them to a small crash room for the doctors – a bunk bed and some chairs crammed into a tiny space. Duncan must have scoped it out ahead of time, as it was currently empty.

“Veronica, you have no idea how much what you’ve done means to me. Until you’re a parent, you just don’t know what it’s like to have a child, but you didn’t just save Lilly’s life today – you saved mine. You’ve managed the impossible, and I just want to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

“Now, I know we haven’t discussed money. Things were a little rushed when you first got here, but you should know I’m going to do right by you. I don’t have a lot, at least by New York standards – all of the Kane money went into schools, and most of my money went into the apartments, but whatever your miracle worker overtime rate is, I’ll cover it. But there’s one other thing I want to you have, and it’s something I’ve given a lot of thought. You are going to be awarded a Kane scholarship, retroactively, for Columbia Law School. Any law school loan payments you made on interest,” (these were pitifully small), “and any payments on principal,” (there were none at all), “will be refunded to you.”

Veronica was stunned. It was the best thing Veronica had ever received. Her independence.  Make no mistake, she was still going to be broke and struggling after this, but she would be broke, struggling, and free.  Free to live her life out from under the crushing boulder of student loans that had seemed inescapable.

And it was no gift, even though Duncan clearly expected nothing further back.  It was an acknowledgement of Veronica’s worth.  She had earned every cent of it, and Duncan made no pretense otherwise.  Veronica refused to ask for help, for charity, and could never have accepted Duncan’s pity.  But this recognition of Veronica’s value, the appreciation that she had made Duncan’s life whole and he could do no less - that was something Veronica could not refuse.  It would be an insult to the man to turn down the gesture of reciprocity.

And, perhaps, since Duncan knew that Veronica could not turn it down, he had included an apology in his offer as well.  Not an apology that he owed for himself, but an apology long overdue from the Kane family, that Veronica knew she would never see from his parents.  An apology for chasing away her mother.  For ruining her father’s career.  For shafting her family of rewards richly deserved, and being the driving force behind Veronica’s most public humiliations - Veronica would never hear an apology from Jake or Celeste Kane.  So Duncan apologized for them, by not only paying her as she deserved, but getting the Kane family to do it at long last.  Veronica had written off the possibility such a long time ago, she hadn’t realized how much such an apology meant to her, even if it was Duncan making it for his parents.  It was the most beautiful thing in Veronica’s life.

And it wasn’t enough.

“Duncan…” Veronica breathed his name, heavy with emotion and the weighty history they carried together.

“Duncan, thank you. I appreciate the generosity, and the intent, and this will change my entire life. But I’m not done. Gorya Sorokin is still out there, he knows who you are, and he could come after Lilly again.”

“Veronica, let it go,” Duncan said gently, “I hired you to bring my daughter back. She’s back. That’s all that matters.”

“Dunca-“ Veronica began, as her phone began buzzing in her pocket. Incoming call from Mac. “Hold on.” Normally Veronica wouldn’t interrupt a conversation like this, but Mac wouldn’t call unless it was urgent, and there were a couple of loose ends on this.

“Mac, what’s going on?” Veronica asked.

“I’ve got Gory on the other line,” Mac answered seriously. “He wants to talk to you and Duncan. He asked for both of you by name.”

Veronica looked at Duncan gravely and repeated what Mac had said, “It’s Gory. He wants to talk to us.”

The transformation in Duncan’s face was tremendous. Where before he had been a weepy and generous soul, in seconds he had changed into an inarticulate red-faced monster, unable to react to Gory’s impending presence with words and simply snapping his head up and down to answer in the affirmative.

“Put him through,” Veronica instructed.

“Veronica Mars,” Gory’s voice came through, full of derision towards Veronica, though the remainder of his words seemed for Duncan’s benefit alone. “Duncan Kane. Well, you clearly know who I am, and I clearly know you. Your father obviously doesn’t know or care enough about you to send a real man to pick up your shlyukha, so you had to make due with Miss Perky Pom-Poms. I assume that means he won’t me pay anything to keep your ass out of jail, so you’ll have the privilege of paying my hush money. Five million. I’d rather take from your father, but at this point I just want to get paid. Send the blond to my apartment, alone, with cash or wiring information - I don’t care which. You have two hours. And Duncan, if I get arrested for borrowing the devochka, you go down with me.”

Mac was the first to respond, as Duncan was still in the midst of speechless rage, which had only deepened upon hearing the man who had kidnapped Lilly call her a whore.

“You can’t go!” Mac called.

“Mac, I have to go,” Veronica explained. “If I’m not there, he’s just going to vanish and get away with it. He’ll ruin Duncan’s life, and he’ll always be a threat to Lilly.”

“Veronica, those all sound like really great reasons, but I think the only thing making you go is that you want to hurt this guy. Look at what trying for revenge got you last time. Your dad didn’t lose his job because of Gory – he lost his job because you wanted payback!”

“Mac, you’re right about what happened then, but this isn’t the same,” Veronica rationalized. “In college Gory was an asshole, but he couldn’t hurt me any worse than he already had. Now? Now he’s a threat. He can hurt Duncan. He can hurt Lilly again. This isn’t payback – it’s protection.”

Mac’s voice quavered from the phone, “Duncan, it’s you he’s threatening. Your daughter. Do you even have Five Million Dollars? What do you think?”

Duncan seemed to have calmed down enough to speak, though he remained flushed and beads of sweat had formed on his forehead from the effort of restraining the destruction he had wanted to inflict on Lilly’s tormentor. Veronica was certain that Duncan would understand, would do anything to protect his daughter – he had at every turn so far and this would be no different.

“Don’t go.” Duncan’s two simple words shook Veronica. The man hulking out into an avatar of vengeance was saying not to confront Lilly’s abductor?

“What the hell do you mean, don’t go?” Veronica shouted. “Are you scared because he said he would rat you out? This is your daughter we’re talking about, this is about her safety!”

“I know better than anyone that this is about my daughter.” Duncan growled darkly. “This isn’t about Gory blowing my cover, this is about giving him more of what he wants. I won’t do it.”

“So what, you just wait for him to disappear so he can come back and do this again?!” Veronica yelled. “He stuck her in a dark hole and threw greasy scraps at her, Duncan! He only broke one arm this time, maybe next time he can get the left one too?! Or maybe he just hadn’t raped her hard enough for you! What possible reason could you have for letting that creature have another shot at Lilly?”

Veronica’s vitriol seemed to reignite Duncan’s anger – what she had said was beyond unfair, but she couldn’t comprehend how Duncan could let this man slide.

“I don’t want you to go because this is dangerous!” Duncan yelled back, “This isn’t the _Big Lebowski_. This isn’t some hilarious romp with White Russians and bowling. This. Is. Dangerous. Bloodshed. Lives ruined. He’s taken enough – don’t go.” 

“Duncan,” Veronica said resolutely. “I love and respect you, but there’s nothing you can say that will stop me from getting this guy.”

Veronica turned on her heels and calmly walked away from Duncan Kane, who shook his head sadly at the indomitable Veronica Mars.


	22. A Confrontation

Veronica stood in front of Gorya Sorokin’s dilapidated apartment building in south Brooklyn, holding a new canvas bag, and staring up at the windows waiting portentously above.  The rain had slacked and given way to an overcast evening, the late afternoon livid with the colors of impending sunset.  Veronica had picked up the canvas bag at a hardware store on the way down from the hospital, replacing the bag she had shredded and sliced rescuing Lilly Welles, and grabbing a few supplies on the way.

Veronica nervously checked her phone one last time before buzzing up to Gory’s apartment.  No longer feeling as certain as when she had left Duncan at the hospital, Veronica still couldn’t think of a better way to stop this monster from further terrorizing Lilly.  Setting aside her misgivings, Veronica pushed the cold metal button to announce her presence to the child abuser, beginning the plan she had set in motion.

A discordant buzz announced that the door was unlocked - Veronica quickly yanked the heavy glass-and-metal barrier open, grabbing some duct tape from her bag and taping the lock open for later.  Gory was surely looking out the window at her approach, to ensure she was alone, but wouldn’t be able to see what she did within the doorway - the angle straight down would prevent it.

Veronica trudged up the stairs to Gory’s apartment - four stories of leg-burning agony after the past two days.  Veronica vowed that after the end of this case, she would use a stairmaster at the gym - her legs felt like rubber after the unusual amount of walking and climbing New York required, even with taking a cab for this final rendezvous.  The cracked plaster and dead water bugs in the stairs spoke to Gory’s impoverished situation as much as the top-floor walkup in a remote area of Brooklyn, far from the gentrification.

Finally reaching the top of the steps, Veronica saw Gory standing in his doorway, watching Veronica approach with a hungry look.  Gory had stripped down to a wifebeater t-shirt and track pants, the latter bulging obscenely.  Although he was only average height, his arms and chest exhibited a brutish strength.  Earbuds were visible in his ears, and as Veronica approached she could hear the mournful wails of James Gang’s Ashes the Rain and I mixed with some kind of Russian techno music playing at full blast, all bass and frantic beating.  Gory opened the door for Veronica like a gentleman, though his leering smile betrayed no gentle intention- it seemed he just wanted to keep Veronica in his sight.  Veronica stepped into the opened door and glided the sticky end of the duct tape she had palmed onto the face plate of the door as she passed, forcing the latch to remain open.  Gory appeared unaware of the smooth move.

Closing the door behind Veronica after she entered, Gory flipped the switch for the deadbolt, oblivious to the fact that it only went halfway before the bolt was stopped by Veronica’s heavy duty obstruction.  Gory then pulled his earbuds out of his ears and latched the security chain at the top of the door, sending a spike of panic through Veronica’s heart. She hoped that the situation wouldn’t spiral out of control.

Looking around the cramped one-bedroom apartment, Veronica tried to see if there was anything to give her an advantage if things went awry.  The dirty windows behind Veronica looked out over the building’s front door and provided minimal light due to the grime, though it otherwise would have afforded a beautiful view of sunset over the Jamaica Bay.  In a likely violation of fire code, there was no escape out the window.

The kitchen area against the right wall was no more than a sink piled with used dishes and a half-stove so small that it looked more like a child’s toy than a functional tool for cooking healthful food.  Since the stove was the one piece of the apartment that somehow remained immaculate, Veronica figured that the ancient microwave sitting atop the counter next to the stove provided Gory’s primary forms of sustenance.  Next to the kitchen area was a closed door - likely the bathroom, as old apartments ran the water lines for the sinks and bathrooms as close to each other as possible.   If Veronica needed a delay, the bathroom looked like her best bet.  The other door, on the left wall, was ajar, providing a view of a rumpled and unmade twin bed, and copious pictures on the walls of naked women enhanced by plastic surgery.

A couch abutted the window, facing in towards the room and the giant flatscreen TV attached to the wall next to Gory.  If Veronica had cared about Gory’s eyesight, she might have been concerned that the small apartment didn’t provide enough space between the TV and the couch, and that it would ruin his eyes.  As it was, Veronica was just dismayed that the room was so undersized, with just a small piece of bare wooden floor separating her from Lilly’s abuser. There was nothing to slow Gory down and the bathroom was the only hope to hide, and only temporarily at that.

Gory remained in front of the door, facing Veronica and blocking the only exit from the apartment.  It was clear that, whatever interest he had in Duncan’s money, he was primarily concerned with keeping Veronica herself penned in.  Veronica had been counting on it, and with the security chain, she would need to keep him focused on her.

“Duncan could only get $300,000.  You’ll have to take a payment plan, but he’s not going anywhere.  I came as a gesture of good faith.  I have the wiring protocols here, ready to send to the bank. They’ll wire the money first thing in the morning once the banks open,” Veronica said, pulling out her phone and quickly hitting a couple of buttons to set her scheme in motion and checking the recorder on her phone – already running. “What’s the account number?”

“Duncan is a coward - I’ll get the rest of the money later.  I’ll have to charge interest, of course. Send what you can to account 555505505505 at Beston Bank, attention Wendy Kroy, account manager,” Gory directed.

“I have to ask,” Veronica questioned with genuine curiosity, trying to ignore the uncomfortable dynamic, “why did you go back to New York to send the note demanding money?”

Gory laughed unpleasantly, replying, “I was meeting friends for drinks.  I wasn’t going to cancel my plans just for the devochka - she wasn’t going anywhere.  I stopped by the computer cafe on the way to the bar, that is all.”

“Why grab the girl at all?”  Veronica asked.  Gory was being more talkative than Veronica had hoped, he might hang himself even more if they kept going.

At this, Gory more clearly showed his anger to Veronica, his voice full of scorn and retribution.  “Jake Kane - he ruined my life.”  Welcome to the club, Veronica thought sarcastically. She was pretty sure Jake Kane had done worse to her than he had to Gory, but she didn’t let that show on her face.

“You, you little bitch, you ruined my life,” Gory continued.  “After the Castle lawsuit became public, Kane must have let everyone know that you had leaked their names because of me - I was blackballed.  Investment bank rescinded my job, and nobody on the West Coast worth a damn would touch me - I had to run out to New York like a dog with his tail between his legs.  The connections I had left, the best they could get me on the east coast was this menial thing.  Language teacher.  Phaw!  Acting as servant to rich brats.  I shouldn’t be a lackey - I should have been rich.  I should have people working for me, not living in a bullshit apartment paying alimony to a greedy bitch.  Jake Kane took that from me - I just wanted back the life he stole.  The girl was just to open Kane’s checkbook.”

Veronica kept herself from rolling her eyes - it would only antagonize Gory, and Veronica was trying to draw this out.  It was amazing how much Gory’s ruined life looked like Jackie Cook’s success story.  Then again, Jackie Cook was made of sterner stuff than this privileged asshole could comprehend.

Gory unselfconsciously reached his right hand into his crotch and shifted the bulge around.  Veronica’s eyes widened in terror - Gory wasn’t just happy to see her, it was a gun in his pants.  Gory pulled out the small gun and pointed it at Veronica - a .38 by the look of it, the same as what Veronica usually used.  

Veronica had clearly underestimated Gory’s personal animosity against her.  Gory held an intense vendetta, clearly blaming Veronica, along with Jake Kane, for ruining his life.  Stealing Lilly back before his big payday would have only made it worse.  Veronica stared down the empty barrel of the gun, certain that this severe misjudgment had been her last.

But Gory didn’t shoot.  Every moment he let slip by without killing Veronica was a gift to her - a chance that Veronica might be able to turn the tables back.  There was no way she had expected to succeed slugging it out toe-to-toe with the bigger man, even before he pulled the gun.  She had to outsmart him.  So Veronica did the best thing she could.

Veronica did nothing.

Any emotional gestures or sudden movements might set Gory off.  Any leeway she could get would only help her, so Veronica would wait for her opportunity.  Gory didn’t seem to want her imminent demise, or else Veronica would already be dead.  So Veronica just calmly looked at Gory like this was just your average Wednesday for Veronica Mars.  It wasn’t too far off, though she was rarely at such a large disadvantage.

Gory slowly walked up to Veronica, keeping the gun trained on her the entire time, cautious that Veronica would rush him.  He needn’t have bothered - he had Veronica dead to rights and she wasn’t going to risk him shooting her, even if he only winged her.  Contrary to popular belief, getting shot in the stomach, arm, or leg was still usually fatal.  But Veronica appreciated each second Gory used walking slowly to her, each second that didn’t result in her instant death.

Gory stopped just out of Veronica’s reach, then lifted his left hand and used his longer arm to contemptuously backhand Veronica across the face.  Pain enveloped Veronica’s existence and her sight was blotted out with a pure white flash, her ears ringing.  When Veronica’s sight returned, she was surprised to find herself still standing, and could feel blood begin to trickle from the corner of her mouth.  The room continued spinning and Veronica swayed back and forth, punch drunk and disoriented.

Gory looked Veronica up and down, and seemed satisfied that he had taken the fight from her.  He must not know her very well.  Gory tossed his gun through the open door to his bedroom, far from where Veronica could have gotten it, even if she could have run in a straight line.

“You have taken something from me, Veronica Mars.  And now I will take from you.”  Gory’s statement was punctuated by tearing open the top button of Veronica’s jeans, using both hands to begin stripping the dazed detective.

As Gory was hunched in front of Veronica, his hands crudely manipulating the opening to her pants, Veronica saw her lifeline over his shoulder.  A thin metal wire was glittered through the partially open front door, a dark hand attempting to attach it to the security chain.

Veronica fought through her vertigo and grabbed the pepper spray from her bag, aiming it in the direction of Gory’s head as best she could.  The canister tilted at a wild angle as Veronica released the spray.  The pepper flung violently though the apartment, ending up mostly in Gory’s hair, his ear, and copious amounts in the air over Veronica and her would-be rapist - no small amount did manage to catch Gory, and Veronica herself.

Gory howled in frustration, taking a meaty fist and half-blindly punching Veronica in the sternum.  Breath and hope escaped Veronica’s small frame and she crumpled gasping to the floor.  She breathlessly tried crawling towards the couch, away from the attacker, even though she knew escape was hopeless.  
Veronica suddenly felt Gory’s heavy body atop hers, his hot breath hitting her ear and his weight further pressing the air from her body.  Hyperventilating, Veronica desperately tried to get oxygen and ignore the oppressive man atop her.

Suddenly, the burden pressing Veronica down was lifted, as the unconscious Gorya Sorokin was rolled off of her by Detective Mike Vulcan of the NYPD.  Detective Vulcan raised the large metal fire extinguisher that Veronica had picked up at the hardware store, some wayward strands of Gory’s brown hair sticking to the side of the metal cylinder. Vulcan swung the steel container downward and, with businesslike efficiency, smashed Gorya’s jaw.  The other items Veronica had left with Mike to circumvent a security chain or latch - wire, heavy duty rubber bands, and cardboard squares -  were out of sight and must still be out in the hall.  The heavy metal canister had been meant as a last-ditch battering ram for the door, but it seemed Mike had used it to good effect on the back of Gory’s head while Veronica held his attention.  
Smashing Gory’s jaw had been part of the plan, preventing him from immediately spilling the beans on Duncan Kane.  Gory would be arrested for lesser charges, gun possession, assaulting Veronica, but they would leave the kidnapping out of it – if Gory ratted out Duncan he would only be dropping a dime on his own head with federal kidnapping charges. The state charges would get Gory put away safely, and the threat of 20 years in federal should hopefully keep his mouth shut once it healed. If Duncan was scared, he could still run, but he’d have a good head start.  
Veronica continued laying on the floor like a beached fish, her head still loose from Gorya’s first backhand and her lungs still frantic from the tremendous blow to her chest.  Veronica’s ears still rang unpleasantly, but she could hear Mike starting reading the unconscious man his rights, sort of.  
“You’re under arrest.  Illegal possession of a firearm, based on that thing on the bed, for starters.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say will impress the hell out of me, with a busted jaw and being unconscious.  You have the right to have me repeat this same dumbass thing to you everywhere we go, even if you clearly can’t hear me, because otherwise my boss will be on my ass harder than that fire extinguisher hit your head...”  
Veronica couldn’t help but laugh at her backup’s improvised Miranda rights, causing pain through her labored breathing.  Still laughing, Veronica finally managed to catch a full breath, and then promptly joined Gorya Sorokin in unconsciousness.


	23. The Aftermath

Veronica Mars would do anything to get her man.  That was how she found herself wearing a hospital gown, waking up in an uncomfortable bed.

“Hey there,” a familiar masculine voice said, tinged with concern.  “You gave me a scare there.”

“Logan?...” Veronica asked muzzily.

In her still sleepy state, Veronica didn’t see the momentary flash of pain in Duncan’s eyes.  “No, it’s me.  Duncan.”

“Duncan...” Veronica repeated, still orienting herself and remembering how she got to be in a hospital bed with Duncan Kane at her bedside.

“We got him.”  Veronica stated, remembering what had happened with Gory.  “Lilly’s going to be safe,” Veronica added with no small amount of satisfaction. “Gory can’t talk now, and if he informs on you later he’s giving himself another 20 years.”

Duncan looked down sympathetically at Veronica laying in the recovery bed, and picked up some of the food left for her on an end table next to the bed.  Chilled tropical fruit salad and a cup of ice water with a sealed top and a straw.  Duncan slowly offered Veronica some ice water. He was in no rush to describe whether he was going to run away from Gory anyway.

Veronica sipped some water and did feel a bit better - she hadn’t even realized how bad her headache was until she had something to drink.  But Veronica was still worried for Duncan - they had only just reconnected, and he was probably going to flee again, probably for Russia or Cuba, someplace she would never see or hear from him again.

“Veronica- you should know something.  Earlier this morning, there was a prison riot.  Apparently word got around that Gory was a child rapist, and the other convicts didn’t take too kindly to it.  Even criminals have kids, and there’s an unofficial zero tolerance policy for child molestation.  Things escalated unusually high, and the entire prison yard was involved - it’s impossible to tell who the major instigators were.  Gory was beaten.  Badly.  Trampled, really. He was used more as a floormat than hit by people.  Killed in a way that was ... gory.  His jaw was wired shut, so he couldn’t effectively scream for help.  His body was unrecognizable- I hear it looked more like someone had jumped on a tube of toothpaste than any human remains.  I actually didn’t know that it was possible to decapitate someone just from trampling, but apparently it happened.  Given the widespread nature of the riot, the Department of Corrections has determined that launching any kind of investigation would be fruitless, and it’s unlikely Gory’s ex-wife will be suing anybody anyway.  Gory isn’t saying anything.”

Veronica stared at Duncan in horror.  Despite the bloody travesty that he described, he said it in the calm, understated manner that he usually had in high school. It was a far cry from the tense nervousness she had seen the past few days, and as if the red-faced hulk she had seen yesterday afternoon had been a dream. Mr. Sorokin was meant to be an object lesson – don’t mess with Lilly Welles.

“Oh my god, Duncan.”  Veronica whispered reverently, “did you do that?”

Duncan looked at Veronica a bit more seriously, not quite as soft as he had been so far, but still kind and gentle.  “Veronica, I love you dearly, and I always will, but you have to know there’s no way I’m answering that question.”

Of course.  If Duncan had done it, it would change how Veronica thought of him. If Duncan hadn’t done it, then there were only two people who could have - Jake Kane and Clarence Wiedman.  Knowing what they had done would make Veronica a bigger potential threat to the dangerous men. Veronica was suddenly very glad that Jackie’s knowledge of Duncan’s cover was still secret. 

Nothing Duncan could say would make her happy, and could only put her at greater risk of harm – so he wouldn’t answer. 

And it wasn’t like Veronica had a lot of moral high ground to stand on.  She hadn’t killed anyone - that was important.  But Veronica, of all people, was no stickler for the rules.  Duncan had surely heard how her dad lost his job the second time, destroying evidence protecting her.  And heard how Grace’s rapist was caught.  An anonymous tip that the rapist publicly claims was beaten from him.  And the reason Gory couldn’t call for help?  It was because Veronica had arranged to have his jaw broken.  Maybe if Gory could have called out, he’d be alive right now.  Veronica doubted it, but she had some culpability in his death too. Duncan was too kind to point this out, but Veronica had never exactly been on the straight and narrow, and seemed to have only gotten grayer as time went on.  
 

Veronica had been worried that Gory would be a future threat.  Now he was not.  Even if Veronica couldn’t condone the methods, the result certainly had a pragmatic finality to it.  

“So,” Veronica asked, “did he?  Did he rape Lilly?”

Duncan didn’t shy away from the question as so many men did.  He just answered unhappily, knowing that Gory’s death and its bloody message would only prevent future harm, but couldn’t undo the trauma to Lilly.

“We don’t think so.  No tearing, no semen.  I’ll ask Lilly if she wants to share later, and she can tell me or Laura - if and when she’s ready.  It seems like Gory just neglected her, more than anything else.  Even the broken arm looks like it was just from Gory grabbing and pulling her, without thinking about how what he was doing would affect Lilly.  We may never know exactly what he did - if Lilly doesn’t want to talk about it, we’re going to respect that.”

Veronica took some of the fruit salad off the end table and stabbed a segment of chilled orange with the white plastic fork, holding it up towards Duncan.

“Here. Orange is a dish best served cold.”  Veronica said, trying to find some black humor in the situation.  

Duncan cracked a small smile.  “No thanks, I think that’s all yours. All you need is love.  But if you’re up to making wise cracks, you’ll probably recover from the blow to the head just fine.”

“And your father?  Is he going to try to take Lilly again?”  Veronica asked.

“My father and I have come to an ... understanding.  The official story is that Gory kidnapped Lilly to get me to divulge Kane Software secrets, so Kane security is giving her a permanent detail.  I now have an official position at Kane Software too.  Secretary to the Head of East Coast Operations.  It doesn’t sound very important, but I’m effectively in charge of the New York office. I do still get to keep my law practice as well.  

“Lilly will finally meet dad this summer.  We have to tell her the truth about why she was taken, and it might be a lot to take in, but hopefully she’ll be ready to meet her grandparents by summertime.  Kane Software is running a new summer program for girls interested in STEM - San Francisco and Shanghai – Golden Gate Bridge and Great Wall, with lots of personal attention from the CEO.  It’s exactly the sort of thing Lilly would have loved, before all this.  I just hope it still is.”

“And that’s it?”  Veronica asked.  “No hard feelings about sending Wiedman here to take her?”

“He was looking out for her safety - I can’t begrudge that.  When Lilly turns 18 dad’s going to file bloodwork and seek for me to get custody of Lilly retroactively.  Between that, and evidence from Grace and Lizzie of abuse in the Manning household, evidence that I only took Lilly to defend her, we have a pretty good case on the merits.  If my cover gets found out, the Mannings can’t take Lilly once she’s 18.  If we lose, I stay in hiding as Theodore Welles - no statute of limitations on kidnapping.  If we win?  Then I can come out.  Maybe I take over the family business as Duncan Kane someday.

“But here, I’ve just been talking and talking.  The nurse wanted to check in on you once you woke up - let you know how you’re doing.  I’ve been selfish keeping her away.  Before I go, here, I want you to have this,” Duncan said, handing her a wrapped fortune cookie.  “Dessert.  It’s supposed to still be good - I was going to send it to you a few months ago when I was in a really bad place about Kathryn, but thought better of it.  Since you’re here, though, it seemed appropriate.  Thank you Veronica, for everything.  And give me a call the next time you’re in New York.”

Veronica unwrapped the stale fortune cookie and crushed it to see the message inside.  “True love stories never have endings.”  The same as what he had left for her on her 18th birthday. Veronica’s feeling for Duncan remained confused, but she knew that, whatever their fate, she and Duncan were tied together inextricably.

Veronica watched Duncan walk out the door and past the nurse waiting outside the room. Veronica remained in a bit of a stunned stupor, but a new horror began to dawn on her. Up until now, she hadn’t really thought of what danger she had put herself in, what damage Gory may have wrought. If Veronica lost the child – the pregnancy she had considered ending on her own just a couple of days ago, she didn’t know how to feel. How Logan would react. He may never forgive her for putting their child in danger.

Veronica fought with all her might to keep her composure together as the nurse walked into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-watched the Veronica Mars series in the summer of 2017 after I got laid off because, well, it’s great. I kind of wanted to see where the characters would be today – what would happen as the characters actually had to grow up. So I started this little project. It helped me through some stuff. In some ways I made some of the characters more like people I know in life, in part because it helped me as an intellectual exercise, and in part because I thought this would turn out better if I wrote what I knew. If you noticed recurring themes of parental abandonment and dealing with new parenthood, that wasn’t accidental.  
> I wanted to fully embrace the genre of the self-aware, reference and meta laden neo noir. A Philip Marlowe that drops not only case clues but meta references to the real world. Veronica Mars was a show that had Paris Hilton appear in the second episode, only to make fun of her, by name, on two later occasions. This is the show that got Willow and Cordelia from Buffy the Vampire Slayer into a snark-match in season 2 and brought in Laura San Giacomo as a love interest for Keith with a bit of a wink-wink-nudge-nudge to “Just Shoot Me.” I wanted to write a story, but also layer in, and expand on, a show that got the Dandy Warhols for on-screen fan-service, and had two stars of Freaks and Geeks play prominent roles in the movie, with one playing himself. The cultural references in the show were legion, with particular shoutouts to noirs and neo-noirs in the show – a plot point on a video store clerk renting out Body Heat, Veronica quoting Big Lebowski. I wanted to follow and escalate that. If you see a name or a reference, it’s probably because I think there’s a book or movie worth watching.  
> A note on continuity: this book takes place in September 2017, approximately 11 years, 9 months after the events of “Donut Run”, the episode from which this draws the most plot points. This is meant to take into account all “canon” – the TV series, the movie and both books by Rob Thomas and Jennifer Graham, The Thousand Dollar Tan Line and Mr. Kiss and Tell.   
> It is indicated in the books that they take place Spring-Fall 2014 (e.g. it's been 32 years since Keith saw Marcia Langdon, which was 1982). This book, therefore, takes place approximately three years after the end of Mr. Kiss and Tell.  Presuming the books take place immediately after the events of the movie (as indicated in Thousand Dollar Tan Line). This means that the events of the movie occurred in 2014 (when the movie was released) and that Veronica's 10-year reunion actually occurred around February 2014, about 8 years after the class of 2006 graduation. If the movie took place 10 years from Veronica’s graduation, it would be set about 2½ years in the future from the date of release. Based on the books, and the release date of the movie, it took place several weeks prior to Spring Break 2014, when the events Thousand Dollar Tan Line occurred.  Chronology here is consistent with the books.
> 
> One of the reasons I like this book is that it can be dropped into continuity pretty easily. If you want to get back to status quo ante in canon, and pretend this didn’t happen, it’s actually pretty easy: Veronica loses the baby, Logan calls off the engagement because he’s so angry about it, and they continue their tumultuous sometimes-long-distance relationship. Considering Duncan wants to lay low for a few more years until Lilly turns 18, it would make sense that the events of The Once and Future Kane not come up again, respecting Duncan’s wishes and attempting to avoid detection by the FBI. Keith’s investigation on behalf of Petra Landros need not go anyway and drop after a few months.
> 
> On the other hand, I personally quite like the idea of Veronica as a single mom, and some shady backstory around the death of Duncan’s dead wife that needs unraveling in future stories beyond canon.


End file.
